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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

Ex  Libris 

Katharine  F.  Richmond 

and 

Henry  C.  Fall 


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DISCOURSES  AND  LiriTHRS 


COMMEMORATIVE    OF 


EMILY  LANE  SMYTH, 


WIFE  OF  FXGOV.  FREDERICK  SMYTH. 


'  Fold  her,  O  Father,  in  Thine  arms. 
And  let  her  henceforth  l)e 
A  messenger  of  love  betweiMi 
My  hnman  lieait  and  Thee, 
Till  glad  I  hear  her  welconK-  voice 
To  heaven  and  home  for  nie." 


MANCHESTER,   N.    H. 

JOHN      H  .      C  L  A  k  K  E  ,      P  R  I  N  I'  F.  R  .- 
1S85. 


f 

VIA  SOLITARIA. 


Aloue  I  walk  the  peopled  citj-, 

Where  each  seems  happy  with  his  own  ; 
O  friends  !  I  ask  not  for  your  pity,  — 
I  walk  alone. 

No  more  for  me  yon  lake  rejoices, 

Though  moved  by  loving  airs  of  June; 
()  birds  !  your  sweet  and  piping  voices 
Are  out  of  tune. 

In  vain  for  me  the  elm-tree  arches 

Its  plumes  in  many  a  feathery  spray  ; 
In  vain  the  evening's  starry  marches 
And  sunlit  day. 

In  vain  your  beauty,  summer  flowers  ; 
Ye  cannot  greet  those  cordial  eyes; 
They  ga/e  on  other  fields  than  ours,  — 
On  other  skies. 

The  gold  is  ritled  from  the  coffer. 

The  blade  is  stolen  from  the  sheath ; 
Life  has  but  one  more  boon  to  offer. 
And  that  is  —  Death. 

Yet  well  I  know  the  voice  of  duty, 

And  therefore  life  and  health  nmst  crave, 
Though  she  who  gave  the  world  its  beauty 
Is  in  her  grave. 


For  life  to  me  is  as  a  station 

Wherein,  apart,  a  traveler  stands,  — 
One  absent  long  from  home  and  nation, 
In  other  lands. 

And  I  as  he  who  stands  and  listens. 

Amid  the  twilight's  chill  and  gloom, 
To  hear,  approaching  in  the  distance. 
The  train  for  home. 

For  death  shall  bring  another  mating. 

Beyond  the  shadows  of  the  tomb; 
On  yonder  shore  a  bride  is  waiting 
Until  I  come. 

Thou,  then,  the  longing  heart  that  breakest, 

Stealing  the  treasures  one  by  one. 
I'll  call  thee  blessed  when  thou  raakest 
The  parted  one."' 


A    MEMORIAL. 

The  subject  of  this  nieiuorial,  Emily  (Lane)  Smyth, 
was  born  in  Candia,  K  IL,.Tuly  22,  1822,  the  fiftli  of  a 
family  of  six,  one  brother  and  five  sisters.  She  was  the 
dauLchter  of  John  Lane  an<l  Xabby  (Kmerson)  Lane,  and 
u:rand-dau<<liter  of  Col.  Nathaniel  Emerson,  who  served 
under  Stark  at  Bennington.  Her  father  was  a  prominent 
man  of  afi'airs  in  town,  justice  of  the  peace,  surveyor, 
re})resentative  in  the  state  legislature,  general  legal  ad- 
viser, a  man  of  most  kindly  disposition,  and  fine,  gentle- 
manly demeanor.  The  mother,  in  her  later  years  an 
invalid,  was  a  lady  of  (juiet  tastes  and  admirable  discre- 
tion, full  of  that  wisdom  so  needful  in  the  administration 
of  the  household.  The  atmosphere  of  intelligence  and 
the  firm  but  gentle  training  of  this  Christian  liome  liad 
much  to  do  with  the  character  of  .\[rs,  Smyth. 

liichard  Emerson  Lane,  the  first-born  of  the  family, 
graduated  at  Dartmouth  in  1841,  and  died  suddenly  at 
Lewiston,  X.  Y.,  in  1842,  where  he  was  teaching.  The 
survivors  are  Sarah  Tilton,  Mrs.  Warren   S.    Childs,   of 


Henniker,  Ilannali  Godfrey,  Mrs.  Henry  M.  Eaton,  of 
Candia,  Abby  Emerson,  wife  of  tlie  late  Richard  H.  Page, 
of  Candia,  and  Liicretia,  Mrs.  Francis  B.  Eaton,  of  Man- 
chester. 

Mrs.  Smyth  was  a  bright  and  ready  schoUir  in  tlie 
common  schools  of  her  native  district, —  at  that  time  thor- 
oughly good  so  far  as  they  went, —  and  in  the  town  high 
school,  usually  taught  by  college  graduates.  She  took 
an  after-course  in  a  young  ladies"  seminary  at  Charles- 
town,  Mass.,  and  was  for  several  terms  thereafter  a  teacher 
in  Manchester  and  in  other  places,  and  in  this  capacity 
she  was  as  highly  appreciated  and  as  nuich  beloved  in 
the  days  of  her  youth  as  in  after-times  and  in  wider 
spheres. 

She  was  married  to  Frederick  Smyth,  December  11, 
1844,  and  thenceforth  she  became  one  with  her  husband. 
There  was  nothing  needful  to  be  done  in  her  new  home 
in  Manchester  that  she  did  not  know  how  to  do  and  to 
do  well,  and  she  felt  it  a  disgrace  to  sit  with  folded  hands 
wliile  her  companion  pushed  his  fortunes  alone.  But  to 
be  a  shining  example  of  all  the  domestic  virtues  was  by 
no  means  the  extent  of  her  endowment.  Iler  father's 
knowledge  of  public  affairs  made  her  ac(|uainted  with  the 
tlctails  of  business,  the  city  clerk   and   the   bank   cashier 


could  call  on  her  for  aid  when  needful,  while  her  personal 
beauty,  the  rare  charm  of  her  conversation,  and  the  win- 
ning ease  of  her  manner  everywhere  made  friends.  So 
time  passed,  and  for  the  most  part,  or  all  but  about  two 
years  of  her  long  and  happy  wedded  life,  she  was  blessed 
with  excellent  health,  and  from  first  to  last,  in  the  cottage 
on  Merrimack  square,  or  in  the  governor's  mansion  at 
"  The  Willows,'"  her  graces  seemed  but  the  spontaneous 
overtiow  of  asunny  and  genial  nature,  worn,  indeed,  with 
a  dignity  that  commanded  respect,  but  touched  with  no 
tinge  of  hniitoir.  And  what  shall  I  say  of  the  delights 
of  the  home,  of  those  traits  which  made  the  place  a 
heaven  on  earth? 

With  her  husband  she  had  grown  up  side  by  side ;  he 
was  one  of  her  nearest  neighbors  and  her  schoolmate, 
and  so,  when  joined  [)y  the  tie  of  wedlock,  her  feelings, 
her  thoughts,  and  ambitions  were  wholly  in  unison  with 
his,  and  t)ut  of  this  grew  a  beautiful  circumstance, —  too 
rare,  indeed,  in  this  l)usy  age.  Xo  two  people  in  public 
or  in  private  were  so  constantly  togcthei-.  The  lodgl;  or 
the  smoking-room  iK'ver  drew  him  from  her  side:  with- 
out her  he  was  never  seen  at  the  play,  the  concert,  or  the 
lecture,  and  on  their  travels,  pcojile  noting  the  odd  fact 
of  a  gentleman  thoroughly  devoted  to  his  wife  have  con- 
cluded them  to  be  iicwlv  married. 


She  delighted  in  the  country  drives  about  Manchester, 
and  day  after  day,  in  all  inviting  seasons,  through  new- 
cut  roads  or  grass-grown  ways,  they  were  often  met  as 
evening  drew  on  seeking  health  and  the  purest  pleasure. 
Mrs,  Smyth  had  a  passionate  love  for  wild  flowers ;  she 
knew  their  secret  haunts,  and  she  brought  home  from 
her  journeys  seeds  out  of  the  wonderftd  natural  gardens 
of  other  lands  and  planted  at "  The  Willows."  As  she  loved 
ilowers,  and  as  she  cared  for  birds  and  the  nests  about 
her  place,  so  was  she  very  sweet  and  gracious  in  her 
manner  to  little  children.  Of  the  trees  and  the  shrubs, 
the  very  hedge-rows  about  the  place,  it  may  be  said  that 
they  were  personal  triends ;  she  saw  them  set,  and  watched 
with  loving  interest  over  their  growth.  When  her  hus- 
band, wearied  with  intense  application  to  business,  came 
home,  her  foot  was  first  upon  the  lawn,  her  carol  greeted 
him  at  the  open  door  with  never-tiring  freshness. 

In  the  course  of  her  husband's  pu1)lic  life  she  was  called 
on  to  entertain  as  guests  some  among  the  most  distin- 
guished people  of  the  United  States, —  Chief-Justice  Chase, 
Chief-Justice  Waite  and  family,  President  Hayes  and 
wife,  tlie  wife  und  daughter  of  Gen.  Grant,  Vice-Presi- 
dents Hamlin  and  Colfax,  Henry  Ward  Ik'ccher  and 
wife,  Gens,  liutler,  Martindale,  and    Chamberlain,   Post- 


master-General  Key,  Judge  Bond  of  the  United  States 
eircuit  court,  Hon.  W.  M.  Evarts,  Mrs.  Mary  A.  Liver- 
more;  and  it  was  lier  delight  to  welcome  to  her  home  tor 
a  ])rief  rest  that  hard-working,  eloquent  native  Greek 
missionary,  with  his  efficient  helper  and  wife,  the  Rev. 
George  C'onstantine,  of  Smyrna.  One  of  the  most  nota- 
ble events  immediately  preceding  her  fatal  illness  was  the 
reception  tendered  l)y  cx-Ctov.  Smyth  to  the  Kepublican 
candidate  for  the  presidency,  the  Hon.  James  G.  Blaine. 

Adejit  as  she  was  in  the  art  of  making  a  pleasant 
home,  she  ^^•as  always  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to 
accompany  her  husband  on  his  numerous  excursions,  and 
he  rarely  lel"t  home  Avithout  her.  In  this  numner  she 
became  widely  familiar  with  our  own  country,  journeying 
frequently  \vest  and  south,  to  the  Canadas  and  California, 
and  later  to  Mexico  aiul  Cuba.  In  1878  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smyth 
went  abroad,  visiting  points  of  interest  in  England  and 
Scotland,  and  after  a  week  in  Paris  went  c!<i  Egy})t  to  the 
Holy  Land.  At  that  time  they  visited  Smyrna,  Constan- 
tinople, and  Athens,  returning  to  Paris  by  way  of  Xajtles, 
through  Konu',  Florence,  ^'cnice,  and  Milan,  with  a  brief 
stop  in  Switzerland.  After  some  needed  rest  in  J'aris, 
they  came  home  ria  Dublin,  Edinlturgh,  and  London. 
Four   years  latei",  while    revisiting    numy  of  the    [»laces 


above  iiamofl,  tliey  made  a  more  extt-ndefl  tour  of  tlie 
Holy  Land,  went  through  Spain  to  Gil)raltar,  and  to  Tan- 
giers  on  the  African  coast,  made  tlie  voyage  ui>  the  Xile, 
visited  Damascus  and  Baalbec,  and  from  Constantinople 
crossed  the  Black  Sea  to  Varna,  went  through  Roumania, 
Bulii:aria,  and  Hungary  down  the  valley  of  the  Danube 
to  Vienna,  and  back  to  Paris  via  Munich  and  Strasbourg. 
Atter  a  few  months'  rest  at  home  Mrs.  Smyth  seemed 
in  unusually  good  health  and  spirits,  and  often  narrated 
in  the  company  of  the  friends  she  loved  many  interesting 
incidents  of  her  journey. 

In  the  summer  of  1884  she  was  not  feeling  (piite  as 
well  as  heretofore,  and  in  the  hot  days  that  followed  in 
the  early  September  was  attacked  by  a  sudden  indisposi- 
tion which  seemed  to  threaten  })aralysis.  She,  however, 
]»artially  recovered  un(l(^r  the  care  of  her  attending  physi- 
cian, Dr.  Thomas  AVheat,  and  some  weeks  later  consulted 
Dr.  William  A.  Hammond  in  Xew  York  city.  Some- 
what Itenefitud  she  returned  home,  V)ut  soon  experienced 
i\  relaytse  and  was  t-ontined  to  her  room.  Her  physician 
and  friends,  however,  were  hopeful  of  her  recovery. 
Later  in  tlie  ease  Dr.  John  L.  liol)inson  was  called  in 
cojisultation,  and  Dr.  Hammond  summoned  from  Xew 
^'ork.  Her  malady  was  then  jironounced  to  be  Briglit's 
disease,  and  while   no   hope   was  given    of  a    permanent 


9 

cure,  it  was  thouii'lit  slie  inii2:ht  <ret  'al»out  and  ciijcn-  yet 
even  some  years  of  comfortable  health.  For  some  days 
tiie  indications  were  favorable,  and  then  she  ii^rew  speedily 
worse.  Aii:ain  Dr.  iramniond  came,  this  time  oidy  to 
confirm  the  fears  of  her  friends  and  the  opinion  of  her 
attendinij;  physicians.  She  saw  and  remarked  on  the 
anxious  faces  about  her,  and  divined  the  worst.  She  was 
\'erv  calm,  and  she  alone  of  all  the  sad  ii'roup  could  smile 
and  speak  in  her  old  cheery  way.  On  that  same  day, 
Saturday,  January  the  lOtli,  after  conversation  with  her 
}>astor,  the  liev.  Dr.  Spaldinsi",  she  was  received  into  the 
URMnbership  of  the  Franklin-street  church.  On  Sunday 
she  was  perfectly  clear  in  her  mind,  conversinsj:  much 
and  identityinu'.  as  her  husband  read  to  her  from  the 
Scri[)tures,  localities  they  had  visited  toii'ether  in  the  Holy 
Land. 

Durini!;  the  days  that  remained  she  was  sli_ii:htly  wan- 
deriuii',  but  ii:reeted  her  friends  in  fre(pient  lucid  intervals 
with  her  old  charminii'  smile,  was  solicitous  about  the 
trouble  to  which  she  was  puttinii'  her  devoted  husband 
and  sisters  and  faithful  nurses,  and  so  courteous,  kindly, 
C'hristlike  to  the  very  last,  on  the  14th  day  of  January, 
ISS."),  about  ten  in  the  morninu',  }>assed  on  up  tiie  shininii- 
way  to  the  Xew  Jerusalem. 

F.  B.  EATOX. 


10 

The  funeral  services  took  place  on  Sunday,  January 
the  18th.  Prayer  was  ottered  at  the  house  by  the  pastor, 
the  Kev.  George  B.  S[»alding,  I).  D.,  and  a  hymn  sung 
by  the  Franklin-street  quartet.  As  the  cortege  passed  to 
the  church,  the  chimes,  which  were  presented  to  the 
society  by  ex-Gov.  and  Mrs.  Smyth,  rang  PleyeFs  Hymn, 
Bethany,  Afount  Vernon,  Naomi,  and  other  airs  in  keep- 
ing with  the  occasion. 

At  the  clnirch  the  order  of  service  was  as  follows:  — 

Organ  Prelude. 
Singing  —  "  Come,  ye  disconsolate,  where're  ye  languish." 
Scripture  Reading  from  1  Corinthians,  xv.  1-55. 

Prayer. 
Singing  —  "Come  unto  Me  when  shadows  darkly  gather."  —  Tune  of 

Henley. 
Discourse  by  Rev.  (ieorge  H.  Spalding,  D.  I). 
Hymn  —  "  Softly  now  the  light  of  day 

Fades  upon  my  sight  away."  —  Tune  of  floUey. 
Remarks  and  Benediction  hy  the  Rev.  C.  W .  Wallace,  D.  D. 

The  spacious  church  was  tilled  to  its  utmost  capacity, 
and  hundreds  were  unable  to  tind  entrance.  Friends 
were  present  from  Concord,  I'ortsmouth,  and  other 
}»laces,  and  thousands  availed  themselves  of  the  opportu- 
nity to  look  for  the  last  time  on  the  face,  regnant  and 
beautiful  even  in  death,  of  her  they  had  known  and 
bn'ed  so  well. 


DISCOURSE. 

BY    THE    KEV.    GEOlKiE    15.    .Sl>ALI)IN(i,    1).    D. 

1  Cor.  XV.  55.  —  "•  ()  ])eatli,  whei'c  is  thy  sting?  0 
(iPiive,  wlierc  is  thy  victory':''' 

This  song  of  trinni})!!  is  the  cclio  of  tlie  lingers  voice 
wliich  years  hefore  had  1)een  heard  in  tlie  garden  ])y  the 
rocky  tonih  :  "  lie  is  not  liere,  hut  is  risen."'  That  sceiie 
of  sorrow  in  whic-h  Mary  and  the  disciples  mingled  was 
at  once  transformed  into  a  scene  of  ghuhiess.  The  wail- 
ing cries  of  hroken  hearts  gave  way  to  exultant  shouts. 
''  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  I  '"  "  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed!  " 
The  garden  hloomed  again.  The  stern,  rocky  grave  was 
buried  beneath  its  flowers.  .Joy  tilled  all  hearts.  Death 
at  last  had  been  concjuered.  Their  Lord  was  ln-nceforth 
"  the  Prince  of  Life."  And  by  His  resurrection  these, 
Ilis  disciples,  connuered  death.  They  who,  like  all  man- 
kind, through  fear  of  death  had  all  their  life  been  subject 
to  bondage,  were  now  forever  delivered.  One  after  an- 
other they  died:  but  the  King  of  Terrors  had  no  teri'or 
for  them.     The  survivors  bore  their   loved    comi)anions 


12 

one  by  one  to  the  grave,  but  the  grave  was  radiant  with 
heavenly  hope.  Though  there  was  a  tender  sorrow  at 
every  remenibranee  of  James's  virtues  and  cruel  deatli, 
and  of  Ste[)hen's  heroism  and  shining  faith,  yet  their 
believing  friends,  all  unmoved  h\  the  tragic  scene,  always 
spoke  of  them  as  "  fallen  asleep  in  Christ." 

Years  went  l)y.  The  name  of  Christ  had  penetrated 
into  new  countries,  among  men  of  foreign  birth  and  faith. 
It  had  crossed  the  Mediterranean,  and  drawn  to  it  a  clus- 
ter of  believing  men  and  women  in  the  city  of  C^orinth, 
where,  beyond  any  city  of  the  times,  luxury  and  sensu- 
ality, stimulated  by  the  gambling  spirit  of  commercial 
life,  raiikly  grew  and  tlourislied.  Men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren died  out  of  this  little  number  of  Christ's  followers 
as  died  those  of  other  classes  in  the  great  city.  House- 
holds were  broken  as  well  among  the  members  of  the 
little  church  as  among  the  eager  merchants  who  ke}»t  the 
streets,  ports,  and  seas  Inisy  with  their  enter}>rise.  or 
among  the  gay  revelers  who  with  that  recklessness  begot- 
ten (if  skepticism  challenged  each  other  to  some  fresh 
ex<'ess,  with  the  cry:  "Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-mor- 
row we  die.""  I'^verywhere  in  that  splendid  city,  in  every 
street,  in  every  circle  of  life,  children,  youth,  beauty, 
strength,  manhood,  all  alike  ownetl  the   [tower  of  death 


13 

tuid  yielded  to  his  inexorable  .sway.  .  But  to  these  Chris- 
tian believers,  in  tlieir  hour  of  bereavement,  in  the  shad- 
ow of  death,  in  their  farewells  to  the  <lying,  by  the  closed 
tonil),  amidst  tears  of  fond  remembrance  and  feelings  of 
mightiest  loss,  the  scene  of  the  blooming  garden,  and  the 
vacant  sepulcher,  and  the  risen  Clirist,  and  the  glad  dis- 
cijties  renewed  itself.  The  shout  of  triumph  heard  from 
angels'  lips,  and  caught  up  by  Mary  and  tlie  disciples, 
was  again  repeated  with  the  same  exultant  cadence.  In 
tlie  face  of  death,  before  the  open  grave,  above  the  recum- 
bent forms  of  their  loved  ones,  these  followers  of  the  first 
disciples  sang  their  triumiihant  song,  "  O  Death,  where 
is  thy  sting?  0  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory?  "  It  stands 
as  among  the  clearest  facts  in  liistory,  as  a  veritable  ele- 
ment in  human  ex[terience,  that  all  through  the  ages 
since,  death  has  put  on  for  a  large  part  of  the  human  race 
an  altogether  new  aspect.  Since  Christ  died  and  rose 
again,  the  atHie-tiuns  of  humanity  have  clianged  their 
character.  S(-)rr()W  is  not  what  it  was  before  lie  came. 
Death  is  not  what  it  was  since  lie  slept  in  the  grave. 
The  grave  is  not  what  it  was  since  He  ascended.  Sepa- 
rations are  not  what  they  were  since  he  opened  to  men's 
eyes  the  "  Father's  house,''  and  brought  so  consciously 
near  "  the  whole  familv  in  heaven  and  earth." 


14 

This  feeling  of  lofty  cheer  manifested  itself  in  the 
funeral  rites  of  the  early  believers.  The  procession  to 
the  grave  was  one  of  triumph.  Those  who  took  part  in 
it  carried  in  their  hands  branches,  not  of  the  gloomy 
cy[>ress  as  did  the  Greeks  and  Komans,  but  of  palm  and 
olive,  as  of  those  who  celebrate  a  victory.  Leaves  of  the 
evergreen  laurel  and  ivy  were  placed  upon  the  bosom  of 
the  deail,  a  token  of  immortal  hope.  The  nearest  friends 
carried  lighted  lamps  or  torches.  The  procession  did  not 
move  forward  in  silence  but  with  chants  and  hymns. 
Believers  in  Christ  left  to  the  Komans  the  use  of  black 
apparel,  and  to  the  Jews  ashes  and  rent  garments.  They 
clothed  themselves  in  purest  white. 

So,  always  since,  in  times,  and  among  believers  of  larg- 
est faith,  the  gloom  and  despondency  which  death  brings 
to  the  heart  when  left  to  itself  have  ijiven  wav  to  feelincrs  ot 
thankfulness  and  victorious  hope.  They  have  been  able 
in  all  their  tears  over  the  dead,  and  in  all  their  own  near- 
ness to  death,  to  exclaim,  "  O  Death,  where  is  thv  stingr? 
()  (ira\e,  where  is  thy  victory?  '' 

Ft  is  among  such  joyous  and  trium}>hant  feelings  as 
these  that  I  ajtproach  the  sul))ect  tliat  is  more  immedi- 
ately in  your  thoughts. 

The  contemplation    of  such    a    nol)le   life   as   has   here 


15 

coino  to  it8  oartlily  end, —  the  analysis  of"  a  character  in 
whicli  met  80  many  a<hniral)le  (lualities,  ought  to  be 
attended  witli  feehngs  of  supreme  comfort ;  nay,  more, 
of  elation  and  triumpli ;  for  death,  in  all  the  desolation 
and  loss  tliat  he  has  liere  acconi[»lished,  lias  not  liere  con- 
(juered.  The  victory  is  liers,  whose  faith  took  hold  upon 
Christ,  whose'  life  was  suffused  with  His  grace,  and  whose 
virtues  were  such  that  death  must  needs  glorify  them,  and 
open  to  them  in  anotlier  existence  a  larger  s[)here  for  their 
freest  exercise. 

An  illustrious  French  writer  has  said  that  it  is  the 
most  felicitous  of  all  things  to  he  born  well.  In  this  re- 
spect we  may  count  Mrs.  Smyth  as  most  happy;  for  she 
whom  we  had  come  to  admire  as  in  the  higliest  sense  a 
typical  New  Kngland  woman,  was  ])orn  into  the  l)est 
Ni'w  England  iuHuences. 

There  was,  tirst,  the  iV«//"  Enfilaiid  Home:  the  mother, 
amialde  in  cliaracter,  tender  and  faithful  in  her  endless 
ministry:  the  father,  the  most  distinguished  man  in 
the  town,  the  counselor  for  a  wide  neighborhood,  jus- 
tice of  the  ])eace,  land-sur^■eyor,  re})resentative  to  the 
general  court,  a  man  who  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
education  of  the  young,  himself  an  old  teacher,  who 
owned  the  most  shares  in  the  villau'c   circvdating  librarv. 


IG 

and  \\iio  introduced  the  largest  part  of  its  well  selected 
books  into  his  own  family;  a  man,  unlike  most  ^ew 
England  fathers  of  his  time,  who  ruled  his  household 
with  love,  and  entered  with  sympatliy  and  keenest  zest 
into  the  life  of  the  youngest;  and  withal  a  deeply  religious 
man  according  to  the  Old  Testament  type,  reverential, 
devout,  conscientious,  full  of  the  solemnities,  obligations, 
and  lidelities  of  religion.  It  was  a  happy  household, 
where  the  members  were  knit  together  by  a  common 
service  and  sacrifice,  a  common  dei»endence  and  helpful- 
ness,—  where  the  two  mightiest  forces  that  can  mold 
character,  human  love  and  religious  feeling,  were  ever 
liresent.  Among  such  inlluences  was  this  one  born  and 
nurtured,  and  so  she  grew  to  be  a  girl  of  uncommon 
beauty  of  person  and  spirit. 

And  there  was  the  Xeir  Enyloitd  District  School,  where 
she  was  for  the  most  })art  educated.  Here,  in  our  coun- 
try, there  has  been  no  better  method  for  the  development 
of  mind  and  character  to  meet  the  relations  of  life.  The 
district  school  "  numl)er  two,"'  ''  the  meeting-house  dis- 
trict '■  at  Candia,  was  among  the  very  best.  Because  the" 
wealth  of  the  town  was  mostly  centered  there,  the  school 
year  for  the  children  was  the  longest,  and  the  teachers 
Were   most   often    undei'-i^raduates   of  the    college.     The 


17 

few  months  spent  at  the  seminary  at  Charlestown,  Mass., 
gave  a  grace  and  iinisli  to  the  girl's  mind  and  manners, 
but  those  ])road,  popular  sympathies,  and  democratic 
principles  and  impulses  which  so  grandly  characterized 
the  woman  through  every  successive  stage  of  her  brilliant 
career,  were  fostered  and  strengthened  in  the  common 
school. 

And  besides  the  New  England  Home  and  the  New 
England  School,  was  the  Nero  Eiuiland  Church,  which 
last  added  its  powerful  inHuence  to  shape  this  life  to  its 
great  uses,  and  to  develop  in  this  character  its  mingled 
strengths  and  graces.  The  country  church  of  half  a  cen- 
tury ago  was  the  center  of  intellectual  and  social  as  well 
as  spiritual  life.  The  doctrines  preached  from  the  pulpit 
were  strong  and  distinct,  full  of  solemnity  and  alarm. 
Keligion,  as  it  impressed  itself  upon  the  consciences  and 
fears  of  men  and  women,  was  a  deeply  serious  and  awful 
thing.  This  impression  has  ]>een  seen  in  the  life-long 
views  of  her  who  has  gone  from  us,  iu:>t  affecting  so  much 
her  life  and  character  as  her  opinions  and  feelings  in 
respect  to  her  own  relations  to  the  church.  The  momen- 
tous nature  of  a  public  confession  of  Christ,  or,  as  the  act 
was  formerly  designated,  "a  profession  of  religion," 
wrought  in   her  utmost  self-distrust    and    sore   timiditv 


18 

whenever  she  attempted,  as  many  times  she  did,  to  as- 
sume this  <hity,  a  sense  of  which  was  always  with  her. 
It  was  only  hy  a  supreme  etfort  to  overcome  the  shrink- 
ing feelings  implanted  in  her  very  sonl  in  her  early  youth 
that  she  was  at  last  enahled,  with  peace  and  comfort,  to 
enter  into  an  outward  union  with  Clirist  in  His  church. 
But  her  earlier  religious  training  did  not  fail  to  work  out 
in  her  happier  results.  It  gave  to  her  an  unfailing  de- 
voutness  in  the  whole  temper  of  her  soul,  tilling  her  with 
great  reverence,  and  holding  her  through  all  the  experi- 
ences of  her  puhlic  life  sensitively  conscientious  in  word 
and  action,  and  rigorously  ol)servant  of  religious  form 
and  service.  The  prayer-meetings  of  her  younger  days, 
with  their  solemn  voices  of  heseeching,  and  their  sweet 
songs,  never  were  forgotten  by  lier.  The  old  tunes,  the 
old  hymns,  she  sang  them  through  all  the  twilight  hours 
of  her  life.  Her  soft  sweet  voice  echoes  through  the 
evenings  at  home,  and  will  echo  while  there  are  hearts 
there  to  weep,  and  rejoice  over  a  Ijlessed,  happy  past. 

There  was  needed  only  one  other  experience  to  crown 
this  young  life,  and  to  equi}*  this  so  richly  endowed  na- 
ture for  its  noble  career.  At  the  early  age  of  eighteen 
Mrs.  Smyth  l)ecame  a  teacher  in  the  common  school. 
She  taught  in  her  native  town  and  in    Chester,  and  here 


10 

ill  Manchester.  She  was  highly  successful  in  this  most 
important  service,  and  it  was  an  echication  in  itself,  devel- 
oping that  superb  self-control,  and  that  quiet  but  master- 
ing control  of  others,  that  independence  and  self-reliance 
which  entered  so  largely  into  her  after  life. 

At  twenty-two  years  of  age  she  was  married  and  began 
her  life  in  Manchester,  which  has  been  continued  through 
these  forty  ^-ears.  I  need  not  trace  its  outward  events^ 
nor  speak  in  detail  of  those  unusual  circumstances  which 
have  served  to  make  her  name  and  position  conspicuous 
in  the  public  estimation.  I  only  want  to  set  forth  anew 
the  always  needed  lesson  of  life.  Here,  forty  years  ago^ 
began  a  true  marriage  union,  in  humble  circumstances 
at  first,  but  hand  joined  to  hand,  and  heart  to  heart,  and 
lives  blending  into  perfect  unity,  in  oneness  of  struggl'e, 
oneness  of  aim,  rising  together  by  mutual  help  through 
the  long  years  into  stage  after  stage  of  success,  of  pros- 
perity, of  high  ofHcial  honor,  of  distinguished  public 
service,  until  a  great  number  in  the  state  and  outside  the 
state  have  looked  uiton  it  with  praise  and  admiration. 
How  much  her  calm,  strong  judgment,  womanly  wit,  and 
winning,  pojiular  address  and  unfailing  inspiration  of  hope 
and  love  have  helped  to  this  success,  none  so  largely  and 
thankfully  acknowledges  as  the  one  who  mourns  her 
most  to-dav. 


20 

111  my  analysis  of  the  influence  one  exerts  upon  others, 
something  certainly  is  to  be  matle  of  personal  appearance, 
of  outward  manner.  As  Virgil  long  ago  sang,  "  Even 
virtue  is  more  fair  when  it  appears  in  a  beautiful  person." 
How  much  the  goodness  and  kindness  of  this  heart 
strengthened  their  power  over  us  by  the  outward  grace 
of  feature,  the  majesty  of  form,  and  the  charm  of  man- 
ners, none  of  us  can  tell,  although  we  all  felt  these.  In 
her  very  unconsciousness  of  all  this  was  the  secret  of  her 
power.  Everything  about  her  was  so  full  of  simplicity, 
so  natural,  so  altogether  free  from  the  artilicial,  the  for- 
mal, the  conventional.  Under  all  beat  a  loving  heart, 
full  of  sympathies,  prompting  her  to  constant  ministra- 
tions to  the  poor,  the  unfortunate,  and  all  in  suffering. 
Her  warmest  friends  were  the  poor,  for  in  her  own  dear 
A\ay  slie  so  gave  to  them  that  they  felt  she  was  a  friend 
and  not  a  patron,  —  somehow  one  of  them.  I  count  it 
tlie  noblest  thing  in  this  true  woman  that  as  she  rose 
from  stage  to  stage  in  social  position  until  she  stood  at 
the  highest,  she  carried  up  with  her  all  the  associations, 
friendships,  and  sympathies  which  were  with  her  at  the 
first.  From  her  social  queenship  she  could  go  back  to 
her  native  town,  and  the  sweetness  and  simplicity  of  her 
girlliood  were  still  with   her,  and  old  friends  and   new 


21 

friends  rejoiced  in  her  presence.  There  was  no  hauieury 
no  exclusiveness,  no  self-consciousness,  betraying  her  into 
silly  speech  or  forbidding  manner.  She  provoked  no 
jealousy.  Slie  created  no  envy,  —  only  the  emulation  of 
all  noble  hearts  to  be  like  her  in  the  sincerity  of  her  soul, 
the  sweetness  of  her  charity,  and  the  graciousness  of  her 
life.  Nature  had  done  much  for  her  outwardly  and 
within.  Her  temperament  was  warm  but  free  from  pas- 
sion. She  held  herself  with  a  surprising  evenness.  Noth- 
ing could  fret  her  into  a  violent  assertion.  She  was  always 
sunny  and  cheerful,  and  it  was  her  very  nature  to  ray  forth 
good  feeling  into  the  very  lives  of  those  who  met  her. 
She  Avas  above  all  accusation  in  her  talk  of  others.  She 
could  not  stoop  to  that  gossip  that  with  such  a  reckless 
judgment  slays  the  reputation  of  half  a  neighborhood. 
Who  can  recall  a  bitter  word  of  hers  ?  She  had  that 
charity  of  si)eech  that  would  cover  a  multitude  of  sins. 
There  arc  women  of  great  character,  and  it  may  be 
utmost  worth,  who  in  this  or  tluit  quality  rise  before  us 
in  their  superiority.  Here  is  one  radiant  in  beauty,  daz- 
zling by  the  display  of  elegance  in  all  external  (pialities  ; 
here  is  another  of  keenest  intellectual  wit,  whose  brilliant 
sayings  fill  us  with  admiration  or  fear;  here  is  another, 
whose  attainments  in  knowledge  or  arts  make  her  name 


22 

famous ;  here  is  still  another,  whose  whole  life  and  char- 
acter find  their  expression  in  a  self-absorbed  devotion  to 
some  noble  object.  But  she  wlio  rises  before  my  vision 
to-daj  surpassed  these  difterent  t}7>es,  each  superior  in  its 
own  way,  in  that  she  combined  in  herself  so  many  excel- 
lences, blending  so  harmoniously  charm  of  manner, 
majesty  of  person,  strong  judgment,  utmost  good  sense, 
warm  sympathies,  truest  humility  and  sincerity,  religious 
reverence,  faith  and  love,  —  blending  all  these  so  as  to 
make  more  conspicuous  than  any  gift  or  grace  she  pos- 
sessed that  complete  womanhood ,  which  is  the  best  gift  of 
heaven  to  earth.     Such  was  the  poet's  high  ideal. 

"  I  saw  her  upon  nearer  view, 
A  spirit,  yet  a  woman  too  ! 

»  »  # 

A  creature  not  too  bright  or  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food. 

»  «  «  « 

A  perfect  woman,  nobly  plann'd 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command ; 
And  yet  a  spirit  still,  and  bright, 
AVith  something  of  an  angel-light," 

There  are  two  thoughts  which  we  may  well  carry  forth 
into  all  the  life  that  may  yet  remain  to  each  of  us.     First, 


23 

a  grateful  sense  of  God's  goodness,  in  giving  to  us  such  a 
character  and  life  as  we  have  been  contemplating.  It 
has  been  passed  here  in  this  community,  in  this  church, 
in  our  homes,  in  the  home  where  most  it  revealed  itself. 
It  has  blessed  and  cheered,  it  has  comforted  and  inspired 
a  great  number ;  the  sympathies  and  affections  of 
this  heart  have  strengthened  many  of  you.  The  sun- 
shine of  this  face  has  fallen  upon  many  of  you.  The 
help  of  these  hands  has  been  felt  l)y  many  of  you.  The 
graciousness  of  this  life  has  sweetened  many  a  bitter  ex- 
perience of  yours.  Here  is  much  to  be  thankful  to  God 
for.  Let  not  a  sense  of  i)resent  loss,  or  an  apprehension 
of  future  loneliness,  make  you  forget  the  many  years  in 
which  God  has  made  the  blessings  of  such  a  life  continue 
with  you.  God  was  in  this  nature.  He  created  it,  and 
He  developed  and  sanctified  it  by  His  discipline  and  grace, 
and  He  has  made  its  strength  and  beauty  to  pass  before 
your  eyes,  to  inspire,  rejoice,  and  comfort  you.  To  His 
name  be  praise  even  from  3'our  broken  hearts. 

And  the  second  thought  is  that  of  the  inspiration  of 
such  a  life.  The  more  we  look  into  this  character  the 
more  clearly  shall  we  see  that  its  real  force  and  influence 
were  in  its  spiritual  qualities.  Take  away  the  personal 
charm  of  face,    form,    and    manners,  there    would  still 


24 

remain  love,  fidelity,  charity,  religious  principle,  faith, 
and  reverence.  Take  away  all  the  outward  conditions 
of  material  prosperity  and  social  rank,  and  these  spiritual 
elements  would  ahide.  Her  goodness,  her  sweetness, 
her  sympathies,  her  devoutness,  were  hers,  back  in  the 
days  of  struggle  and  sacrifice.  These  were  the  sources 
of  her  influence  and  the  elements  of  her  nobility  then  as 
ever  afterwards.  And  these  exist  to-da^-.  They  outlive 
life ;  they  take  hold  upon  eternit}'.  The  outward  form 
so  beautiful,  —  the  grave  will  hold  and  despoil  that;  but 
the  real  self,  those  invisible  spiritualities  which  made  up 
her  character  and  drew  our  love,  and  made  her  such  a 
blessing,  death  has  not  touched,  the  grave  cannot  hold. 
From  the  upper  heavens  I  hear,  as  it  were,  her  glorified 
self  saying  to  us  amidst  this  scene  of  death  and  sorrow, 
and  over  the  grave  where  we  shall  place  her  —  saying,  in 
clear  exultant  tones,  "  O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting?  O 
Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  Thanks  be  unto  God  which 
hath  given  to  me  the  victory  through  my  Lord  Jesus 
Christ." 


REMARKS. 

BY    THE    REV.    C.    W.    WALLACE,    D.    D. 

Dr.  Wallace  having  been  introduced  as  the  early  pastor 
of  the  deceased,  said  that  he  desired  to  utter  brietly  a  few 
sentiments  regarding  the  loss  of  one  he  had  known  for 
many  years,  and  spoke  substantially  as  follows :  — 

I  remember,  and  it  was  seemingly  but  the  other  day, 
when  a  young  man  and  his  young  bride  came  into  my 
congregation  and  took  seats  on  the  l)road  aisle.  They 
were  reverent  and  attentive  listeners,  I  took  notice  of 
their  early  struggles  up  and  on,  as  they  set  about  accom- 
plislnng  the  work  appointed  them  to  do.  I  saw  how 
easily  and  with  what  completeness  their  aims  were 
blended  into  one,  and  how  well  she  did  her  part  in  wliat- 
ever  position  her  husband  attained. 

Coming  from  her  countrN"  home  she  never  seemed  to 
make  any  effort  to  reach  what  are  sometimes  called  the 
higher  circles  of  society,  and  yet  when  there  she  fell  into 
her  place  as  naturally  as  though  it  were  hers  l»y  right. 
She  felt  that  she  could  afford  to  be  social   and  courteous 


26 

in  all  place^j.  I  remember  calling  upon  Mrs.  Sni}*!!! 
shortly  after  she  moved  into  her  new  home  at  "  The  Wil- 
lows" ;  she  showed  me  all  about,  took  me  into  the  cham- 
bers to  see  the  outward  views  of  varied  and  beautiful 
landscape  which  each  commanded.  I  admired  things 
without  and  within  ;  everything  was  surpassingly-  harmo- 
nious and  in  good  taste,  and  as  I  was  about  to  come  away 
I  remarked :  "  This  is  beautiful.  This  is  good  enough 
till  you  reach  that  house  not  made  with  hands,"  She 
made  no  answer  in  words,  but  her  countenance  expressed 
an  eloquent  response  to  my  suggestion. 

She  had  much  to  live  for.  With  rare  natural  gifts,  an 
abundance  had  been  bestowed  upon  her;  everyone 
looked  upon  and  admired  her.  Doubtless  there  are 
women  who  from  smaller  circles  would  be  as  greatly 
missed.  Hers  was  a  wider  sphere ;  more  eyes  were  upon 
her ;  and  yet  none  had  aught  to  say  against  her. 

This  beautiful  person  when  she  felt  the  hand  of  death 
approach  looked  not  to  the  east  nor  to  the  west  but  above, 
to  Him  who  said,  "  He  who  believeth  on  Me  shall  never 
die."  To  us  here  there  has  come  a  great  sadness;  her 
form  is  here,  but  she  has  gone.  Everyone  feels  a  per- 
sonal share  in  the  loss  which  has  befallen  us.  But  it  is 
only  for  a  brief  time.     I  look  out.     It  is  winter  time. 


27 

God  has  Hlieoted  the  earth  with  a  .mantle  of  snow,  em- 
blematical of  the  pure  life  which  has  just  departed.  It 
seems  hard  to  lay  her  away  in  the  cold  ground;  ])ut 
reflect,  my  friends;  she  whom  you  loved  is  not  there  in 
that  colHn;  she  has  gone  upward  to  a  better  region,  and 
out  of  this  thought  comes  a  l)lessing  for  all.  "We  are 
here  only  a  short  time.  We  are  l)ir(ls  of  passage,  and  soon 
go  beyond,  to  tliat  region  whither  we  are  all  traveling. 


LEITERS. 

Portsmouth,  January  14,  1885. 
My  Dear  Sir :  — 

Please  receive  the  assurance  of  my  lieartfelt  sympathy 
in  your  bereavement.  The  departure  of  so  excellent  a 
woman  as  Mrs.  Smyth  is  a  public  loss,  and  while  the 
hearts  of  your  friends  everywhere  are  tilled  with  sadness 
at  this  dispensation,  there  is  breatlied  a  prayer  that  you 
may  be  strengthened  and  sustained  in  this  hour  of  your 
great  afliiction. 

With  very  kind  regard, 

Your  friend, 
WILLIAM  II.  HACKETT. 

(Clerk  U.  S.  Court.) 

Hon.  Frederick  Smyth,  Manchester, 

Amherst,  January  14,  1885. 
My  Ever  Dear  Friend:  — 

And  now  the  windows  of  your  house  are  darkening. 
I  know  all  what  it  means,  having  felt  the  same  ;  and  from 
my  loneliness  of  years  hasten  to  express  to  you  my  tender 
sympathy  in  your  great  loss,  —  a  loss  so  great  and  a  bur- 


30 

den  so  heavy  to  be  borne  that  naught  but  the  grace  of 
God  can  sustain  you,  —  and  to  that,  with  all  my  heart,  I 
commend  you,  with  the  earnest  prayer  to  Heaven  that 
3'ou  may  be  abundantly  "  comforted  with  the  comfort 
wherewitli  we  have  been  comforted  of  God."'  God  is 
faithful  who  hath  promised,  and  will  as  surely  fultill. 

Yours  in  Christ, 
(And  surely  that  means  sympathy  and  love), 

E.  D.  BOYLSTOX. 


Englewood,  X.  J.,  January  14,  1885. 
Dear  Friend :  — 

I  am  filled  with  dismay  and  grief  at  the  thought  of 
your  sorrow.  How  I  do  wish  I  could  comfort  you.  Be- 
lieve me,  I  do  pray  for  you  with  all  my  heart  and  strength, 
and  I  knoir  God  will  sustain  you.  Remember  it  is  only 
for  a  little  time  —  the  years  slip  away  so  (piickly  —  when 
we  will  all  meet  again,  purified,  chastened,  and  godlike. 
How  my  heart  aches  for  you  !  It  is  well  with  Emma. 
It  would  be  selfish  and  unkind  to  ask  her  to  forego  the 
heavenly  pleasures  which  await  her  release  from  the  pain 
of  earthly  existence.  I  only  hope  that  her  suffering  may 
not  be  long,  or  that  she  may  be  happily  unconscious  of  it. 
Poor  dear  friend,  in  spirit  I  walk  with  you.  *  *  * 
Kiss  dear  Emma  for  me.  How  little  I  dreamed  of  this 
when  we  last  met.  I  remember  yet  her  hearty  laugh  ;  it 
sounded  so  like  her  old  self  that  I  nearly  forgot  mv  fears. 


31 

Dear  frieiul,  I  know  my  words  see-ni  idle,  empty  sound. 
It  must  l>e  so  for  a  time,  but,  litippily,  God  lias  arranged 
that  our  atHictions  grow  into  tender  memories.  So  will 
yours,  though  you  cannot  now  so  believe. 

May  God  help  you  is  the  prayer  of  your  friend, 

Mks.*^  JULIA  DUXCAN. 


(Telegram.) 

Boston,  January  14,  1885. 
Hon.  Fkederick  Smyth, — 

My  Ucar  Governor: — Allow  me  to  tender  to  you  in 
this  hour  of  your  bereavement  my  sincere  sympathy  and 
condolence  for  tlie  very  great  loss  you  have  sustained  in 
the  removal  from  this  world  of  one  whose  cheerful  words 
and  pleasant  smiles  have  made  life  to  you  a  joy. 

J.  V.  joiixsoN. 


Portsmouth,  January  15,  1885. 
Mt/  Dear  Governor :  — 

We  grieve  with  you  over  the  death  of  dear  Mrs.  Smyth. 
My  heart  bleeds  for  you  in  your  desolation.  I  hoped 
until  the  last  that  we  might  hear  of  such  improvement  in 
her  condition  that  she  might  be  spared  a  long  time,  and 
that  I  should  see  her  a  good  many  times. 

I  spent  a  very  deliglitful  afternoon  with  her  at  your 
house  last  July,  and  since  she  bade  me  good-bye  at  the 


32 

horse-car  I  have  not  seen  but  have  thought  of  her  a  great 
deal  in  her  sickness.  I  am  grateful  for  the  friendship 
and  acquaintance  of  so  noble  and  lovely  a  woman. 

But  now  she  has  gone  to  swell  the  number  of  the 
blessed,  leaving  behind  many  aching,  loving  hearts,  but 
also  many  sweet  memories  and  loving  deeds  to  gladden 
the  days  that  are  lett  her  loved  ones.  May  He  who 
knows  your  sorrow  and  who  cares  for  you  as  none  other 
can,  keep  you  in  his  love  and  bring  you  purified  into  the 
bliss  of  the  redeemed,  is  the  prayer  of 

Your  long-time  friend, 

Mrs.  AAHOX  YOUXG. 


(Telegram.) 

Concord,  X.  H.,  January  15,  1885. 
Ex- Gov.  Frederick  Smyth  :  — 

My  deepest  sympathy.     Beloved  in  life,  death  embalms 
her  memory  in  all  hearts. 

J.  E.  PECKER. 


Concord,  X.  H.,  January  15,  1885. 
Mj  Di'iir  Governor :  — 

Through  all  the  first  weeks  of  anxiety,  I  had  hooted 
that  you  might  not  l)e  called  upon  to  pass  through  the 
same  sorrow  that  came  to  me.  God  in  His  wisdom  has 
<lecreed  otherwise,  and  vour  consolation  must  be  that  our 


33 

loss  is  her  gain,  and  in  the  remembrance  of  her  lovely 
and   noble   life.     May   our  Heavenly   Father   give   you 
strength  to  carry  you  through  this  severe  affliction. 
With  my  warmest  sympathy,  I  am 

Your  sincere  friend, 

J.  H.  PEARSON. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth,  Manchester. 


Dover,  IST.  H.,  January  15,  1885. 
Dear  Sir :  — 

I  read  with  much  pain  of  the  death  of  your  excellent 
A\ife,  and  just  write  a  word  to  express  my  deepest  sympa- 
thy, though  I  know  that  at  such  times  words  are  l)ut 
empty  things.  A\^ien  we  say  that  she  was  a  thoroughly 
good  woman,  and  most  thoroughly  loved  by  those  who 
knew  her  best,  we  but  give  expression  to  the  heart-felt 
conviction  of  all  who  knew  her  character  and  worth.  I 
shall  always  remem1)er  with  pleasure  your  words  and  acts 
of  kindness  to  me,  both  while  acting  chaplain  at  the  Sol- 
diers' Home  at  Augusta,  Me.,  and  while  a  pastor  at  Man- 
chester. May  God  l)les8  and  sustain  you  in  this  hour  of 
affliction.     AVith  warmest  aifection, 

I  remain  your  liuml)le  servant, 

H.  F.  WOOD. 

(Pastor  Baptist  Church.) 


34 

Eppixg,  January  15,  1885. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

J/j/  Dear  Friend :  —  Mrs.  Prescott  and  I  read  with  the 
deepest  sorrow  yesterday  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Sm3^th,  and 
we  convey  to  you  our  sympathy  in  this  sad  bereavement. 
"We  knew  of  her  illness,  but  did  not  know  her  condition 
was  so  critical.  She  was  always  a  warm  friend  to  us,  and 
we  both  feel  that  we  have  lost  one  of  our  best  friends  who 
always  took  a  lively  interest  in  our  prosperity. 

Again,  my  dear  governor,  allow  us  to  express  our 
strongest  sympathy. 

Very  sincerely, 

B.  F.  FRESCOTT. 

(Ei-Gov.) 


Concord,  X.  H.,  January  15,  1885. 
J/y  i)6rt/•.SV/•.•  — 
I  have  just  heard  of  your  sad  atHiction,  and  trust  you 
will  not  think  it  an  intrusion  at  this  time,  which  must  be 
so  sorrowful  for  you,  if  I  venture  to  write  to  you  a  few 
lines  of  sympathy. 

A  kind,  dear  woman  was  your  dear  wife.  "  In  her 
tongue  was  the  law  of  kindness.''  I  liave  said  to  myself 
as  I  have  thought  of  her  to-day,  "  She  was  alwa\-s  so  kind 
and  dear  a  friend  to  my  dear  wife,  who  has  gone  before 
her,  and  who  loved  her  so  much."  I  feel  most  sincerely 
grieved  to  tliink  you  should  have  to  bear  so  terrible  a 


35 

loss,  and  am  certain  that  the  entire  community  shares  my 
own  feeling;  for  when  one  so  conspicuous  for  only  good 
deeds  and  charitahle  labor,  and  so  noted  withal  for  her 
Christian  virtue,  is  taken  from  our  midst,  tlie  loss  is  in 
one  sense  a  public  one.  But  I  know  liow  little  any  poor 
words  of  mine  will  avail  to  comfort  you,  but  at  this  time 
didn't  wish  to  be  thought  lacking  in  sympathy  for  you. 

Faithfully  yours, 

«.  C.  EASTMAX. 


Laconia,  January  15, 1885, 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

M'l  Dear  Sir  :  —  I  had  but  just  written  to  a  friend  with 
reference  to  the  death  of  his  wife,  when  I  took  up  a  news- 
paper and  read  a  notice  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Smyth.  I 
liasten  to  tender  my  sympathy  and  that  of  Mrs.  Hibbard, 
on  account  of  your  great  bereavement.  "We  had  lieard 
of  her  serious  illness,  but  were  hoinng  that  her  life  might 
be  s}»ared  and  her  health  restored. 

-  Very  truly  yours, 

E.  A.  HIBBARD. 

(Ex-,Ju(lge  Supreme  Court.) 


(Telegram  from  New  York.) 

You  have  our  deepest  sympathy. 

{^h\s.)  LAURA  A.  and  DOUGLASS  GREEX. 


36 

88  Pleasant  street,  Concord,  N.  H., 
January  15,  1885. 
J/y  Dear  Gov.  Smyth :  — 

I  am  deeply  pained  to  learn  of  the  death  of  dear  Mrs. 
Smyth.  I  have  been  anxiously  hoping  for  favorable  news 
during  these  past  weeks  of  suspense.  I  have  lost  an  old 
and  valued  friend,  and  one  more  tie  connected  with  the 
happy  years  of  my  life  is  broken.  Your  wife  has  always 
been  my  ideal  of  perfect  womanhood,  and  was  held  in. 
high  esteem  by  Mr.  Warde.  I  cannot  refrain  from  tell- 
ing you  of  my  own  sorrow  in  her  loss,  and  heart-felt 
sympathy  for  you  in  these  dark  hours  of  bereavement. 

May  the  loving  Father  comfort  and  help  you  to  endure 
this  blow  from  His  chastening  hand. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

(Mrs.)  M.  C.  WARDE. 


Concord,  January  15,  1885. 
My  Dear  Sir  and  Brother :  — 

It  was  with  deep  sadness  that  I  read,  "  Mrs.  Smyth, 
the  dearly  beloved  wife  of  ex-Gov.  Smyth,  is  dead."  I 
know  that  no  words  of  mine  can  do  anything  to  relieve 
the  groat  sorrow  that  has  come  upon  you,  Init  I  do  most 
deep]}-  sympathize  with  you,  my  dear  brother,  and  most 
heartily  do  I  pray  that  He  who  rules  above  may  u})hold 
you  in  this  trying  hour. 

Courteously  and  fraternally  yours, 

J.  FRAXK  WEBSTER. 


37 

Manchester,  January  15,  1885. 
My  Dear  Governor  :  — 

I  cannot  refrain  from  offering  you  my  tenderest  pity 
and  heartfelt  sympathy,  deepened  and  strengthened  by 
over  forty  years  of  continued  friendship.  May  our  Pleav- 
enly  Father  give  you  the  consolation  of  our  holy  religion, 
and  with  His  love  soften  and  help  you  bear  this  terrible 
grief  and  aftiiction.  With  tenderest  regards. 
Very  sincerely  yours, 

Mrs.  W.  B.  AVEBSTER. 


Young's  Hotel,  Boston,  Mass., 
.January  16,  1885. 
My  Dear  Governor:  — 

I  am  sure  very  many  feel  that  they  share  with  you  the 
great  loss  you  now  sustain.  You  have  my  sincerest  sym- 
pathy, and  deeply  do  I  regret  that  your  noble  wife  could 
no  longer  have  been  spared  to  you  and  her  numberless 
friends. 

Vejy  respectfully  yours, 

CHARLES  V.  LIVERMORE. 


Mr.  Smyth, — 

Dear  Sir :  —  I  have  but  just  heard  of  your  sad  bereave- 
ment, and  I  want  to  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am,  and  how 
much  I  sympathize  with  you  in  your  great  sorrow.  I 
cannot  realize  that  she  has  passed  from  us.     Though  I 


38 

had  heard  ot  her  ilhiess,  I  also  heard  she  was  recovering, 
and  hoped  it  was  so  until  I  heard  of  her  death.  It  seems 
80  hard  one  should  he  taken  who  had  so  much  to  live 
for  and  everything  to  make  her  happy.  Oh,  why  should 
those  he  taken  that  are  most  needed,  and  others  left  that 
would  he  glad  to  go  I  Such  things  are  hard  for  me  to 
understand,  hut  it  will  all  be  made  plain  sometime,  and 
though  it  is  hard  to  see  the  light  now,  we  know  it  is  but 
a  short  time  at  the  most  when  we  shall  meet  those  we 
love  in  another  world.  She  will  be  missed  everpvhere, 
for  she  was  a  lady  highly  esteemed  and  loved  by  all  who 
knew  her.  To  me  she  was  the  perfection  of  womanhood  ; 
and,  although  our  accpiaintance  was  slight,  I  shall  never 
forget  her. 

I  wish  I  could  say  something  that  would  help  you.  I 
know  how  hard  it  must  be  for  you  to  be  reconciled  to 
her  loss,  but  I  think  it  must  be  some  consolation  to  look 
back  upon  such  a  happy  married  life  as  yours  has  been, 
and  the  many  happy  years  you  have  enjoyed  together. 
That  makes  it  seem  all  the  harder  to  bear  at  first,  but  in 
after  years  it  will  be  a  great  consolation  to  look  back  and 
think  of  that  happiness  and  feel  that  there  is  nothing  to 
regret,  that  you  were  all  in  all  to  each  other  while  she 
was  spared  you. 

It  all  seems  dark  now,  but  the  light  must  come,  and 
the  sorrow  will  Ite  easier  to  bear. 

Yours  res})ectfully, 

ADDIE  I.  AMES. 

447  Shawmut  avenue,  AVednesday,  a.  m. 


39 

Dartmouth  College,  Hanover, 
Ja^iuary  16,  1885. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

My  Dear  Sir  :  —  It  is  with  great  surprise  and  pain  I 
have  read  the  announcement  of  Mrs.  Smyth's  death.  I 
had  seen  the  statement  of  her  illness  and  the  anxiety  felt 
for  her,  but  it  seemed  incredible  that  one  Avhom  I  had 
known  to  be  unusually  vigorous  and  active  could  pass 
away  so  soon. 

Allow  me  to  express  to  you  my  deep  sympathy  with 
j'ou  in  your  great  affliction,  and  my  strong  sense  of  her 
great  and  many  excellences,  and  of  the  personal  friend- 
ship which  I  highly  prized.  She  was  in  many  respects 
a  rare  woman,  and  in  her  memory  you  liave  all  the  com- 
fort that  bright  recollections  can  give. 

I  trust  that  you  may  also  be  sustained  by  those  reli- 
gious consolations  which  alone  can  fill  such  a  void. 

Yours  most  sincerelv, 

S.  C.  BARTLETT. 


Pittsfield,  January  16,  1885. 
Jly  Dear  Gonrnor :  — 

You  have  our  heartfelt  sympathy  in  this  hour  of  be- 
reavement of  one  of  the  noblest  of  wives.  Trust  a  little 
time  till  you  meet. 

Tenderly  yours, 

(Rev.)  JOSEPH  HARVEY. 


40 

Dayton,  Ohio. 
My  Dear  Friend,  Gov.  Smyth :  — 

Mrs.  Giinckel  just  brought  me  the  sad  news  of  the  death 

of  dear  Mrs.  Smyth.     It  was  a  great  sliock.     She  looked 

so  well,  so  full  of  life,  the  last  time  I  saw  her,  that  I  never 

connected  death  with  her.     Xo  words  of  mine  can  assuage 

your  grief,  but  having  passed  through  the  same  dread 

ordeal,  let  me  commend  you  to  a  loving  Father  who 

doeth  all  things  well.     May  God  bless  you,  and  help  you 

to  bear  this  great  attliction,  is  the  prayer  of 

Your  friend, 

(Mrs.)  ELIZA  McDERMOT. 

18  Bowdoin  Street,  Boston, 
January  16,  1885. 
Dear  Gov.  Smyth  :  — 

I  have  just  learned  of  your  great  atttiction,  and  I  can- 
not write  all  that  is  in  our  hearts  for  you  to-day.  They 
are  full  of  a  double  sorrow, —  for  3'ou,  and  for  the  loss  of 
our  dear  angel  friend.  She  was  so  good.  My  poor 
friend,  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  much  we  feel,  but  at 
such  a  time  words  seem  worse  than  useless  to  assauge 
your  great  grief. 

We  regret  so  much  not  l>eing  able  to  come  up,  but  are 
compelled  to  go  to  Xew  York,  where  we  will  be  for  a 
month  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  theatre.  When  you  feel  like 
writing  let  us  hear  from  you.  With  earnest,  heartfelt 
sympathy.  Your  sincere  friends, 

Mrs.  dace  AXD  REGIXA. 


41 

U.  S.  Senate,  Washington,  D.  C, 
January  16,  1885. 
3Iy  Dear  Friend :  — 

I  have  just  seen  the  intelhgence  of  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Smyth.  So  very,  very  sad  to  me  and  to  every  one  who 
ever  knew  her,  what  an  overwhehuing  afHiction  to  you  ! 
I  feel  too  deeply  for  your  grief  to  intrude  with  words,  but 
I  do  hope  that  you  will  accept  the  most  earnest  sympathy 
of  Mrs.  Blair  and  myself  in  this  great  and  irreparable 
loss.  More  tears  will  consecrate  her  memory  than  that 
of  any  woman  of  the  state  in  her  generation.  Do  not 
break  under  your  great  load  of  sorrow.  Thousands  of 
friends  will  bear  you  up  with  the  love  of  full  and  burst- 
ing hearts,  and  there  is  always  the  strong  refuge  which 
you  know  in  the  bosom  of  the  everlasting  Father  of  all. 
God  bless  you,  my  dear,  dear  friend.  It  is  all  lean  do. 
Sincerely  your  friend, 

HENRY  W.  BLAIR. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth. 


Gov.  Smyth, — 

My  Dear  Friend :  —  I  cannot  refrain  from  writing  you  at 
this  time,  to  express  my  deepest  sympathy  for  you  in  the 
great  sorrow  which  has  come  to  you  in  taking  from  you 
the  light  of  your  beautiful  home,  the  idol  of  your  heart. 
May  you  have  strength  and  light  from  above  for  the  days 
which  come.     I  tind  no  words  to  express  tlie  deep  sorrow 


42 

of  my  own  heart  as  I  remember  the  one  who  was  always 
mv  friend  and  adviser.  Your  srood  wife  was  indeed 
queen  among  women,  and  without  a  peer  in  her  noble, 
grand,  and  lovely  character.  To  you  she  w^as  ever}i:hing, 
and  I  realize  how  much  she  was  to  me  and  mine.  I 
shall  only  realize  that  she  is  gone  when  I  look  upon  her 
dear  face  for  the  last  time  at  her  burial.  Pardon  me  for 
saying  so  much,  for  my  heart  dictates  the  words,  and 
believe  me  always, 

Very  truly,  your  friend, 

ABBIE  M.  HEAD. 

(Wife  of  ex-Gov.  Head.) 


Boston,  January  16,  1885. 
Mj  Dear  Mr.  Suvjth  :  — 

Allow  me  to  express  my  deepest  sympathy  for  you  in 
your  recent  afliiction.  It  was  with  great  pain  that  we 
read  of  the  death  of  your  good  wife.  I  hope  you  will  try 
and  not  feel  too  much  depressed  over  what  we  cannot 
help,  and  any  time  you  are  in  town  please  give  Mr. 
Brewster,  Mrs.  Estabrook  and  myself  a  chance  to  shake 
you  by  the  hand. 

Yours  truly, 
A.  F.  ESTABROOK. 

(Brewster,  Cobb,  &  Estabrook,  bankers.) 


43 

Candia,  X.  H.,  January  16,  1885. 
Dear  Uncle  Ih'ederick :  — 

Allow  me  to  offer  my  sympathy.  I  grieve,  too,  over  the 
loss  that  has  come  to  us  all.  I  shall  not  forget  the  kind- 
ness shown  me  in  the  i)ast  hy  Aunt  Emily,  nor  hy  you. 
Have  you  read  that  heautiful  hymn,  "  Lead,  Kindly 
Light?"'  With  little  change  it  seems  suite<l  to  you  in 
these  sorrowful  days.* 

A'ery  truly  yours, 

ELLEX  S.  EATOX. 


Phillips  Academy,  Axdover,  Mass., 
fFanuary  17,  1885. 
31  ;i  Di'nr  Sir :  — 

Human  sympathy  is  such  a  help  in  reaching  forth  to 
the  ])ivine  tliat  I  make  hold  to  write  a  word  to  you  in 
view  of  your  recent  hereavement,  though  I  can  hardly 
liope  that  it  will  he  so  much  a  satisfaction  to  you  as  to 
myself.  I  have  sach  a  recollection  of  ^frs.  Smyth's  dig- 
nity and  graciousness  of  manner,  and  the  sweet  accord 
which  seemed  to  exist  l)etween  you  in  all  your  plans  for 
mutual  jiap})iness  and  usefulness  to  the  world,  that  it  is 
hard  to  realize  that  your  lives  are  henceforth  to  he  no 
longer  one  on  earth  as  heretofore  they  have  heen  one,  as 
hereafter  they  shall  be  one  in  heaven. 

The  words  of  eulogy  belong  to  other  lips  than   mine, 

*Carilinal  Newman'.-?  poem  will  be  found  at  the  end  of  this  memorial. 


44 

but  I  am  permitted  to  offer  a  very  real  and  genuine 
expression  of  my  sorrow  in  your  sorrow,  and  to  bespeak 
for  you  all  the  comfort  and  grace  which  can  come  to 
stricken  hearts  from  the  God  of  all  grace  and  comfort, 
who  has  for  us  only  thoughts  of  love  and  mercy  and  help. 
God  bless  you,  my  dear  sir,  in  your  grief,  and  make  it 
easier  to  see  through  the  darkness  to  the  light,  and  from 
the  grave  to  the  glory  unutterable.  You  will  receive  a 
great  many  letters.  May  they  all  help  you  in  your 
sorrow. 

Very  faithfully  yours, 

C.  f".  p.  BANCROFT. 


Claremont,  January  17,  1885. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth,  — 

Dear  Afflicted  Friend:  —  The  words  of  sympathy  in  this 
time  of  your  great  bereavement  are  almost  idle.  Cer- 
tainly they  are  i)Owerless  to  console.  Yet  it  is  riglit  that 
you  should  know  how  keenly  your  friends  do  sympathize 
with  you,  and  how  fully  they  ap[)reciate  the  irreparable 
loss  3'ou  have  sustained.  Be  assured  tliat  Mrs.  Walker 
and  myself  grieve  with  you,  and  especially  at  the  unex- 
pectedness of  the  event,  and  at  the  thought  that  we  shall 
see  her  lovely  face  and  form  no  more,  who  brightened 
your  life  and  in  whose  presence  her  friends  always  re- 
joiced. 

Sincerely  and  truly  yours, 

J."^S.  WALKER.. 


45 

South  Newmarket,  January  17,  1885. 
Please  accept  our   heartfelt    sjiupathy  in    this,   your 
deep  afHiction.     The  event  was  to  us  wholly  unexpected. 
Effectual  comfort  cannot  come  from  man,  only  from  God. 

Very  truly  vours 

JAMES  H.  FITTS. 

(Pastor  Congregational  Chureb,  South  Newmarket.) 


CuNCOKD,  January  17,  1885. 
My  Dmr  Sir :  — 

While  on  my  way  home  from  New  York  I  heard  of 
the  decease  of  3'our  wife,  and  was  greatly  shocked  by  it. 
My  heart  is  full  of  sympathy  for  you  in  this  great  sorrow. 
Having  myself  been  called  to  drink  this  bitter  cup,  I  can- 
not but  be  profoundly  moved  when  any  friend  is  sufier- 
ing  in  like  manner.  It  certainly  does  not  fall  to  the  lot 
of  many  men  in  this  world  to  enjoy  the  love  and  loving 
companionship  of  such  a  rare  and  noble  woman  as  was 
Mrs.  Smyth.  This  nuikes  your  loss  all  the  greater,  but 
it  will  also  awaken  your  gratitude  that  so  great  a  bless- 
ing w{is  vouchsafed  to  you  for  so  long  a  period  in  your 
litb. 

I  am  convinced  that  no  one  can  enter  into  your  sor- 
row and  realize  its  crushing  weight  who  has  not  passed 
through  a  similar  trial,  and  that  enables  me  to  enter  into 
your  feelings.  If  the  sympathy  and  kind  regard  of  friends 
could  ease  the  pain  which  fills  your  heart,  your  sorrow 
would  be  ([uickly  assuaged. 


46 

From  personal  experience  I  know  that  there  is  but 
one  source  from  which  to  obtain  real  comfort  and  sup- 
port, and  I  pray  that  He  whose  infinite  love  and  compas- 
sion is  able  to  sustain  you,  will  be  your  constant  help. 
I  would  not  intrude  into  your  sorrow,  but  I  could  not 
refrain  from  giving  you  in  some  way  assurance  of  my 
deep  sympathy  in  this,  the  great  sorrow  of  life. 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

L.  b.  STEVEXS. 

(Senator.) 


Portsmouth,  January  17,  1885. 
Of  her  it  may  truly  be  said,  my  dear  Mr.  Smyth, 

"  None  knew  her  but  to  love  her, 
None  named  her  but  to  praise." 

Every  one  is  full  of  her  praises  and  of  her  kindly  acts. 
My  sister  and  I  have  thought  of  her  and  of  you  con- 
stantly, and  when  we  learned  the  sad  truth  we  could  not 
credit  it,  so  earnestly  had  we  hoped  for  her  recovery. 
How  we  shall  miss  lier?  we  always  regretted  the  short- 
ness of  her  visits  and  trie<l  to  keep  her  longer  with  us. 
It  was  a  benediction  to  have  her  with  us.  But  you  in  the 
lonely  house,  no  Emma  to  meet  you  with  pleasant  smile 
and  that  look  of  interest  so  peculiarly  her  own,  what  can 
we  say  ?  It  is  vain  to  try  to  comfort  you,  but  we  all  felt 
we  must  send  just  a  word  to  let  you  know  our  warmest 
sympathies  are  yours.     AV"e  intended  going  to  assist  in 


47 

the  last  sad  rites,  but  the  weather  is  so  forl)idding  and 
we  should  be  compelled  to  stay  away  all  night,  so  we 
must  content  ourselves  with  being  near  her  in  spirit. 
Accept,  dear  Mr.  Smyth,  our  wannest  good  wishes  that 
you  may  be  sustained  and  comforted  in  this  most  griev- 
ous atHiction. 

Yours  most  truly  and  sympathizingly, 

KATE  MILLER. 

(Late  Mrs.  Frank  Miller.) 


High  School,  Gloucester,  Mass., 
January  18,  1885. 
J/y  Dear  Sir  :  — 

I  am  well  aware  that  it  is  not  for  the  stranger  to  inter- 
meddle in  such  a  grief  as  yours  must  be  in  the  loss  of  so 
estimal)le  a  wife,  but  I  may  be  pardoned  the  seeming  in- 
trusion in  my  wish  to  let  you  know  how  very  helpful  she 
who  has  gone  was  to  me  at  a  very  critical  jtoint  of  my 
life.  It  was  your  own  courtesy  and  that  of  Mrs.  Smyth 
that  led  you,  on  the^  occasion  of  the  return  of  the  New 
Hampshire  regiments  from  the  war,  to  meet  in  a  social 
way  at  Concord  the  oiticers  of  our  regiments.  As  one 
of  these,  I  recall  with  })leasure  the  cordial  greetings  and 
hearty  good-will  of  our  war  governor  and  the  now  la- 
mented lady  who  stood  by  his  .^ide.  In  conversation  with 
^STrs.  Smyth  that  evening,  she  asked  me  what  I,  a  young 
an   inexperienced   otticer,  proposed  to    do    next    in    the 


48 

world,  and  when  I  told  her  that  before  entering  the  ser- 
\'ice  I  had  thought  some  of  getting  an  education,  but  was 
not  sure  that  I  could  attbrd  the  time,  she  seemed  in- 
spired out  of  her  own  interest  to  urge  me  to  go  on  with 
my  original  purpose.  Her  words  meant  very  much  to 
me,  as  I  have  always  thought  they  were  the  deciding 
motive  in  my  choosing  a  scholar's  life. 

In  later  years  at  Manchester  I  had  occasion  to  thank 
her  with  all  my  heart  for  this  timely  advice  and  helpful 
word.  The  sad  news  of  her  departure  and  your  own  ex- 
ceedino;  trial  has  served  to  recall  afresh  the  debt  of  crrati- 
tude  I  owe  her.  If  I  may  put  no  other  tribute  to  her 
worth,  I  trust  that  you  will  allow  me  this  word,  poor  as 
it  is,  of  recognition  and  thankfulness. 

With  sincerest  sympathy  for  yourself, 

I  remain, 
A.  W.  BACHELER. 

(Former  principal  of  Manchester  High  School.) 


Candia  Village,  January  18,  1885. 

4  O'CLOCK  p.  M. 

M^  Dear  Frederick:  — 

Allow  me  to  drop  the  sympathizing  tear  over  the  re- 
mains of  the  dear  wife  of  your  youth  as  you  lay  her 
away  to  remain  until  the  bright  morn  of  the  resurrection 
shall  her  and  mv  dear   Sarah  brina;  forth  airain  to  life. 


49 

O  may  wo  be  ready  to  greet  them  to  part  no  more  for- 
ever!  This  loss  brings  fresh  to  my  mind  tlie  sym}>athy 
of  yourself  and  your  dear  Emily,  now  almost  tliree  years 
ago,  when  1  laid  my  dear  Sarah  away,  but  T  trust  our 
loss  is  their  gain.  May  we  so  shape  our  lives,  I  say 
again,  that  we  ean  greet  them  beyond  the  river.  It  will 
not  be  long  before  we  shall  go  to  them  as  time  passes 
on.  I  feci  that  I  am  nearing  the  shore,  being  past  eighty- 
one.  Trust  in  God,  and  believe  all  things  will  work 
for  good  to  them  that  love  God  and  keep  His  eommand- 
ments. 

^'ours  truly, 

JOXATHAX  MARTIN. 

WasiiiN(;ton,  January  18,  1885. 
J/'/  Dciir  S')iroir-Stricl,-<  II  Friend  :  — 

It  is  not  without  reluetanee  that  I  intrude  upon  the 
sacredness  of  your  grief,  but  I  eannot  refrain  from  otter- 
ing you  the  sincere  condolence  of  my  wife  and  myself. 
It  seems  hardly  possible  that  one  so  large-hearted,  so 
sympathetic,  so  usefivl,  and  so  loved,  should  have  thus 
been  summoned  across  the  dark  river.  But  the  ways  of 
Providence  are  inscrutable.  A  few  years  more,  my  dear 
frieiul,  and  we  shall  be  relieved  from  earthly  sorrows  and 
trials,  and  meet  again  the  loved  ones  who  have  preceded 
us.  My  wife  joins  me  in  sending  you  our  symjiathy  and 
love.  Faithfully  yours, 

^r       T^  ^  BEX:  iM":RLHYrO()KE. 

Hon.    rREUEKICK   >.MYTH. 
4 


50 

Washington,  January  18,  1885. 
My  Dear  Governor :  — 

I  noticed  in  a  newspaper  that  Mrs.  Smytli  was  seriously 
ill,  and  almost  immediately  thereafter  that  she  had  left 
you.  I  have  thought  what  a  change  and  serious  blow 
this  must  be  to  you.  It  rarely  falls  to  the  lot  of  husl)and 
and  wife  to  be  so  much  together  as  you  were,  —  to  travel 
together  so  much,  to  see,  experience,  and  enjoy  so  much 
in  company.  This  habit  will  make  your  life  seem  all  the 
more  strange  and  desolate  now,  and  its  burden  very  hard 
to  bear. 

I  never  speak  of  the  hope  of  consolation  to  a  friend  so 
bereaved,  it  seems  like  formality  if  not  mockery;  but  I 
give  you  all  my  sympathy,  and  I  can  certainly  s})eak  to 
you  of  the  universal  feeling  concerning  your  wife,  that 
she  was  cheerful,  helpful,  lovable  in  character  and  dispo- 
sition, in  the  opinion  of  those  who  knew  her  little  or 
much.  You  will  have  none  but  tender  recollections  of 
her,  exce}>t  that  you  will  be  prouder  than  ever  of  her 
noble  qualities  of  mind  and  heart. 

It  is  thirty-three  years,  my  friend,  since  you  began  to 
help  me  start  in  life.  There  have  been  ups  and  downs, 
chances  and  changes,  but  nothing  which  prevents  my 
heart  from  going  out  to  you  very  warmly  in  this  grievous 
hour  of  your  great  trouble. 

Truly  yours, 

v.  E.  CIIAXDLKK. 

(Secretary  of  the  Navy.) 


51 

North  IIadley,  Mass., 

January  18,  1885. 
Hon.  Fkedekick  Smyth,  — 

31)/ Dear  Sir :  —  I  hope  it  will  not  secni  an  intrusion 
for  me  to  exi)ress  to  you  my  sincerest  sympathy  for  you 
in  your  sore  affliction,  at  this  hour  when  you  are  prob- 
ably laying  away  the  loved  form  of  your  sainted  dead. 

Our  Thursday's  daily  announced  the  death  of  your 
wife,  and  a  letter  from  my  sister,  a  parishioner  of  her 
cousin,  Rev.  J.  II.  Fitts,  of  South  Newmarket,  N.  IL, 
told  the  time  of  her  funeral.  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever 
met  you,  but  have  otten  wished  for  the  time  when  I 
could  accept  the  kind  invitation  of  Mrs.  S.  to  call  on  a'OU 
when  both  were  at  home.  This  invitation  was  given 
over  two  years  ago,  when  I  called  at  your  residence  with 
the  wife  of  my  cousin,  J.  C.  French,  on  my  way  to  preach 
in  Pittstield  in  memory  of  our  grandmother.  (She  was 
a  Lane,  and  cousin  of  my  father,  who  died  October  27, 
1884,  at  Stratham,  N.  H.) 

My  reason  for  calling  and  basis  of  our  acquaintance 
was  our  common  ancestry  in  descent  from  IJea.  Joshua 
Lane,  of  Hampton,  son  of  William,  and  grandson  of  Wil- 
liam, the  immigrant  in  1650.  He  (.loshua)  was  great- 
great-grandtather  to  Mrs.  S.,  myself,  and  many  others. 
After  kindly  showing  us  over  your  beautifid  grounds 
and  a  large  part  of  the  mansion,  we  went  into  the  library 
to  see  a  globe  lately  purchased  rotating  by  clock-work ; 
then,  in  view  of  a  bust,  she  asked  me  if  I  recognized  it  as 


52 

of  any  one  I  bad  seen.  I  did  not  recognize  yours  but  did 
hers,  and  rejoice  tbat  you  bave  tbis  comfort  in  your  k)ne- 
liness.  In  pictures  of  Queen  Victoria's  family  group 
since  Prince  Albert's  death,  I  ever  notice  his  bust  in  the 
background.  I  trust  you  have  a  memento  which  will 
seem  as  precious.  And  may  the  strong  faith  and  stead- 
fast hope  which  in  an  unusual  degree  have  T)een  continued 
in  our  (Lane)  family  line,  which  I  trust  was  her  stay  and 
statf  when  she  (with  the  son  of  God)  walked  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  Ije  also  your  comfort  till  you 
come  to  the  meeting-place  l)eyond. 

Much  of  our  conversation  at  the  time  of  my  call  was 
upon  our  ancestry,  and  my  discovery,  in  the  neglected 
cemetery  at  Hampton,  of  the  graves  of  Dea.  Joshua 
Lane  and  wife  and  probably  of  his  father  and  mother. 
The  grave  marked  "  A\".  L."  we  think  is  of  his  tather, 
because  near  his  own  in  the  same  row,  one  (of  his  mother, 
probably)  between,  and  because  in  bis  diary  which  I  have 
he  wrote,  giving  date,  this  day  "  my  honored  father  died 
at  my  house."  At  ^L"s.  Smyth's  request  I  afterwards 
sent  her  the  direct  line  of  her  ancestry  to  William  from 
England,  and  a  })lan  of  the  location  and  position  of  the 
graves  in  Hampton's  oldest  cemetery,  together  with  the 
strong  desire  of  some  of  us  to  see  that  sacred  spot  secured 
from  fast-coming  oblivion.  I  told  her  of  our  i»lan,  by 
contributions  from  descendants  to  [ilace  a  plain  but  dc- 
sii'able  granite  monument  thereto  mark  those  four  graves 
and  tell  of  the  ancestor  of  the  familv. 


53 

I  have  l)t'tbre  me  her  iv})]y,  in  wliich  she  wrote:  "  You 
are  very  khid  to  devote  so  much  tune,  hut  I  assure  you 
I  appreciate  and  am  very  i^ratetul  for  this  history  of  our 
ancestry,  and  also  for  the  plan  of  their  resting-[»lace.  I 
hope  to  visit  it  sometime.  My  sisters,  also,  have  been 
e([ually  interested,  and  would  he  })leased  to  meet  you. 
When  our  clergymen  cousins  move  in  the  matter  of  a 
monument  to  our  revered  forefathers,  I  have  no  doubt 
they  will  find  a  ready  res})onse  from  many  of  the  numer- 
ous Lane  tribes,  I  don't  know  of  any  among  them  who 
have  great  }»ossessions  of  this  world's  goods,  but  I  believe 
'blood  tells,'  and  so  we  are  rich  in  the  priceless  inlierit- 
ance  of  honest,  upright,  Christian  ancestry,  and  I  trust 
we  are  not  unmindful  of  it." 

The  delicate  way  in  wliich  Mrs.  y.  used  our  distant 
family  connection  to  make  me  feel  at  home  with  her 
won  my  sincere  regard.  My  little  l)oy  of  four  summers 
rememl)ers  Ikiw  she  let  him  ride  the  (statue)  pony  near 
the  stable,  and  when  we  left  we  ho[)ed  to  meet  you  both 
again. 

^Nlay  your  sorrow  be  softened  by  the  thought  of  the 
treasure  once  in  possession,  but  now  transplanted  to  await 
you  in  the  home  above. 

Sincerely  yours, 

*.T()TrX  AV.  LAXE. 

(I'jistor  Second  Churcli.  Uaillcy,  Ma<s.) 


54 

Tamworth,  January  19,  1885. 
J/y  Durr  Friciid :  — 

Words  are  inadec^uate  to  express  my  lieartfelt  sympa- 
tliy  for  you  in  your  great  bereavement  at  the  loss  of  your 
dear  "wife.  The  sorrow  occasioned  hy  her  death  pervades 
tlie  entire  community.     Slie  was  beloved  by  all. 

A^ery  truly  yours, 

XATT  HUBBARD. 

Lancaster,  January  19,  1885. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

My  Dorr  Governor:  —  Mrs.  Jordan  and  myself  were 
saddened  by  the  intelligence  of  the  death  of  your  most 
estimable  wife.  "We  had  been  nuide  aware  of  her  illness, 
but  in  common  with  her  thousands  of  friends  who  were 
ignorant  of  the  nature  of  her  malady,  had  hoped  the  dis- 
ease would  not  prove  fatal.  AVe  both  well  remember  her 
kind,  benignant,  intelligent  face,  her  winning,  assuring 
manner,  and  her  true,  womanly  grace  and  excellence  of 
character. 

Mrs.  Jordan,  you  may  recollect,  met  her  at  the  Twin 
Mountain  House,  and  has  ever  since  highly  esteemed  her. 
For  years  I  have  known  of  her  as  a  lovely  and  loval)le 
woman.  You  have  our  deep  symjiathy  in  your  great 
affliction,  and  in  a  loss  greater  by  far  to  you  than  if  all 
else  had  been  taken  and  she  left. 

Respectfully  yours, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  B.  JORDAX. 


00 

2^^EWP0RT,  January  19,  1885. "^ 
My  Valued  Friend :  — 

Mrs.  Adains  and  myself  desire  to  assure  you  of  our 
deep  personal  sympathy.  The  accpiaintance  of  Mrs. 
Adams  with  Mrs.  Smyth  was  brief,  but  sutticient  to  com- 
mand her  highest  respect.  The  news  of  her  sickness 
alarmed  us,  but  we  hoped  and  prayed  that  she  might  live. 
The  result  realized  our  worst  fears.  "  Her  sun  has  gone 
down  while  it  was  yet  day."  Her  preeminent  womanly 
(jualities,  her  true  Christian  spirit  and  life,  her  constant 
deeds  of  charity,  her  intellectual  superiority  and  culture, 
her  affability  of  manner,  her  purity  of  heart  and  mind, 
her  friendship  for  all  classes,  greatly  endeared  her  to  all 
who  knew  her  })ersonally  or  by  reputation,  and  we  keenly 
feel  tlurt:  what  she  was  to  you  in  heart  and  life,  not  only 
as  the  companion  of  your  days,  but  as  the  sunlight  of 
your  dwelling  and  the  joy  of  your  heart,  constitutes  a  per- 
sonal loss  to  vourself  beyond  the  power  of  words  to 
express. 

May  you  have  the  aid  and  sustaining  power  of  divine 
strength,  and  be  cheered  by  the  certain  prospect  that 
when  you  shall  go  over  the  river  you  will  meet  and  l)e 
with  the  loved  one  in  the  higher  life  and  service  to  which 
she  has  now  been  divinely  called. 

Most  truly  yours, 

(Rev.)  ]'\  S.  ADA>[S. 


56 

Newark,  ().,  January  19,  1885. 
3Iy  Dear  Uncle :  — 

It  is  with  }»rofoiind  sorrow  that  I  liavo  heard  of  the 
death  of  your  dear  wife,  my  Aunt  Emma.  Truly  you 
have  suffered  a  great  affliction.  She  was  my  ideal  of  a 
true  and  noble  Avoman.  Be  assured  all  who  knew  her 
share  in  your  sorrow ;  yet  He  alone  who  has  called  her  to 
enjoy  the  reward  she  justly  deserves  by  a  life  so  nobly 
spent,  can  offer  you  any  consolation. 

Think  of  her  as  "  not  dead,  but  sleeping,"  waiting  to 
join  you  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  never  to  part  again. 
All  join  in  sympatliy  for  you. 

Your  niece, 

ABBY  METZ. 


Boston,  January  19,  1885. 
IIox.  Frederick  Smyth,  — 

Dear  Sir  :  —  It  was  with  a  feeliiip"  of  pain  that  I  read  in 
the  morning  paper  of  the  death  of  the  "sharer  of  your 
joys  and  sorrows." 

In  the  long  ago,  when  I  was  scarce  seventeen,  3'ou 
repeated  the  always  sacred  words  that  linked  my  life  witli 
the  late  Isaac  Baldwin  Ilobbs,  and  memory  has  always 
] (reserved  a  very  pleasant  recollection  of  her  A\ho  is  gone 
while  we  were  awaiting  your  an-ival ;  and  so  I  have 
always  felt  a  kindly  interest  in  you  both,  and  though  a 
strangei',  been  very  glad  of  your  success  in  life.     I,  too. 


57 

know  what  it  means  to  see  the  dear  one  fade  from  siglit, 
because  h)ve,  however  strong,  cannot  stay  the  good  All 
Father's  mandate,  and  so  most  deeply  do  I  symitathize 
with  you  in  this  your  great  bereavement.  ] 'lease  do  not 
think  me  presuming,  l)ut  believe  me,  I  have  always  held 
you  both  in  kindly  remembrance. 

Very  sincerely, 

MAliY  k  IIOBBS. 

New  Ipswich,  January  19,  1885. 
IIox.  F,  Smyth, — 

J/y  Diur  Sir :  —  I  have  just  seen  the  notice  of  your  sor- 
rowful berea^'ement.  I  hasten  to  tender  you  my  deep, 
my  heartfelt  sympathy  in  this  hour  of  crushing  loneliness. 
I  do  not  teel  myself  gifted  as  a  comforter  to  im[>art  con- 
solation to  one  so  suddenly  and  deeply  involved  in  sor- 
row, but  there  is  one  whose  tender  loving-kindness  is 
assured  to  the  heavy-laden  who  look  to  Him  for  help. 
The  desolation  of  your  home  Avill  be  more  and  more 
apparent  as  the  days  r^iid  weeks  pass  on.  I  know  it  all. 
Six  years  to-day  since  my  companion  in  life's  struggles 
and  trials  passed  to  the  higher  home   ot  eternal  joy  and 

»»j^^4-  '1^  -T-  •?*  "I^ 

In  closing,  I  commend  you  to  Him  whose  compassions 
are  very  great,  and  who  knows  the  keenness  of  your  sor- 
row, and  will  heed  your  tears  and  cry  for  help  while  you 
pass  the  waters  of  coming  l)itter  loneliness. 
^'^ery  truly  yours, 

^  \VILLIA^r  D.  LOCKE. 


58 

The  Vendome,  Boston, 
January  19,  1885. 
My  Dear  Goanwr  Sm^th  :  — 

You  liaA'e  my  heartfelt  sympathy  in  the  hour  of  your 
great  bereavement.  I  know  it  all  from  experience,  and 
have  full  knowledge  of  what  you  are  to  endure  in  the 
present  and  as  well  in  the  future,  in  the  loss  of  your  wife. 
I  reniemher  well  my  lirst  interview  with  Mrs.  Smyth  at 
my  liouse  in  Marlborough  street,  and  in  Mrs.  Bryant's 
lifetime.  AVe  often  spoke  of  your  wife's  loveliness  of 
person  and  manner.  I  remember  my  interview  with 
Mrs.  Smyth  during  her  illness  on  my  calling  to  pay  my 
respects  at  your  door  in  the  autumn  of  last  year,  and  the 
fact  that  she  insisted  on  answering  my  card  in  ])erson  by 
coming  down  from  her  sick  chamber,  and  I  shall  long 
carry  in  my  mind  the  sweetness  of  exjiression  with  which 
I  was  welcomed.  Words,  I  know,  seem  hollow  at  such 
times,  but  I  could  not  resist  addressing  you  a  few  lines 
of  consolation  and  respect.     J^elieve  me 

Your  obliged  friend, 
GHIDLEY  J.V.   HKYAXT. 

Franklin,  January  19,  1885. 
Frit,  11(1  SiHf/l/i  :  — 

All(jw  me  to  express  my  kind  and  deep  symjtathy  to 
you  in  conse(jueiice  of  your  recent  great  bereavement. 
To  nu'  it  was  unexpected.  Your  good  wife  always  ap- 
peared as  the  picture  of  health   and   long  life.     I   cannot 


59 

roiilize  that  we  (?luill  see  no  more  here  in  tliis  lite  that 
animated,  aetive  body,  that  .smilintj,  benevolent  counte- 
nance, and  hear  no  more  the  attractive  words  of  that 
sweet  voice;  all  lovely  traits  in  the  person  and  character 
of  your  late  estimable  wife. 

But  our  experience  has  taught  us  that  ''Death  loves  a 
shining  mark,"  and  often,  too  often,  we  are  apt  to  think 
his  relentless  arrows  are  aimed  at  the  useful  and  strong. 
>ray  Wf  not  ho]>e  that  your  loss  \\\]]  be  her  gain  't  that 
tlu' immortal  soul  —  what  ^'oung  the  poet  denominates 
the  "  vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame"'  —  yet  survives  in  a 
more  happy  and  glorious  state  of  being,  in  a  higher 
sjdiere  of  existence?  lievelation  teaches  us,  that  when 
man  was  created  the  Almighty  breathed  into  him  the 
breath  of  life.  Must  we  not  belie\'e  that  this  inspiration 
from  the  Almighty  embraces  not  only  the  short  lives 
allowed  to  humanity  here,  but  also  the  immortal,  intel- 
lectual life  allotted  to  the  just  nuide  }terfect,  or  to  the 
angels  ill  heaven':'  Tome  the  promise  is  very  comfort- 
ing, that  there  is  a  plaee  of  rest,  where  sin  and  sorrow  can- 
not come.  "  In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions," 
all  titted  and  prejiared  for  those  who  may  enjoy  them. 
The  duty  is  enjoined  upon  us  to  sfrirc  while  here  to  obtiiin 
an  inheritaiiee  in  these  heavenly  places.  Our  severe 
attiictions  visit  us  as  reminders  of  oiii-  mortality  as  well  as 
of  duties  to  be  performed. 

Xow  I  think  of  your  wife  as  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  a 
heavenly  }>lace,  the  glory  of  whieli  the  eye   has    not  seen 


60 

nor  the  ear  heard,  nor  has  it  entered  into  the  heart  of 
mortals  here  to  conceive  of;  therefore  be  comforted. 
"  Blessed  are  those  who  monrn,  for  the}' shall  he  com- 
forted; ''  so  says  our  Divine  Master. 

A  British  poet  prepared  an  epitaph  for  a  deceased  lady, 
his  heloved  friend.     It  was  in  these  words:  — 

"Here  sleep  in  dust  and  wait  the  Almighty's  will, 
Then  rise  unchanged  and  be  an  angel  still.*' 

I  ado}>t  the  sentiment  for  your  wife,  amended,  that  she 
rose  as  the  angel  the  moment  this  mortality  put  on  immor- 
tality. The  poet  Collins  wrote  a  sweet  verse  in  hehalf  of 
one  of  his  deceased  female  friends:  — 

"  Each  lonely  scene  shall  thee  restore. 
For  thee  the  tear  be  duly  shed ; 
Beloved  till  life  could  charm  no  more. 
And  mourned  till  pity's  self  be  dead."' 

I  remeniher  you  ha\"e  already  a  heautiful  monument 
jirepared  of  your  wife  in  one  of  your  rooms.  This  she 
(k  served.  But  he  a.-^sured  her  many  virtues  and  }>urity 
of  life  have  erected  durable  monuments  in  the  hearts  of 
many  Iriends  who  knew  her  worth.  My  wife,  now  on 
her  sick  bed,  and  destined  to  follow  your  own  soon, 
wislies  me  t(^  express  her  sympathy  with  you  on  this 
oecasioii. 

Truly  ever, 

G.  AV.  XESMITH. 


61 

Daktmuuth  CoLLE(iK,  Juiiiuiry  10,  1885. 
Hon.  Fkkdkkick  Smyth, — 

Dear  Friend:  —  Pardon  me  for  wisliing  to  tell  you  how 
sincerely  I  feel  for  you  in  your  great  atHictioii.  From 
what  I  have  been  called  to  meet  myself  I  know  too  well 
what  such  a  bereavement  means;  the  very  heavens  are 
clouded,  and  the  whole  earth  is  made  a  desert.  But  there 
is  one  tliinii;,  —  we  can  now  enshrine  them  as  never  l)efore 
in  our  ap})reciation,  esteem,  and  love.  Their  numberless 
excellences  and  jU'iceless  charms  take  on  a  perfection 
greater  than  ever.  These  dearest  ones  of  our  lives,  —  we 
at  last  do  them  better  justice ;  and  may  we  not  trust  that 
lie  who  fully  knows  their  hearts  and  ours,  supremely 
loving  them  and  sym}»athizing  with  us,  may  ever  com- 
municate to  them  the  knowledge  of  this  worthier,  deei>er 
love  of  ours  for  them  V  Certainly  we  do  know  that 
lie  is  in  every  way  advancing  their  happiness,  and  Avill 
far  transcend  our  best  imaginings  of  what  will  give  them 
joy;  and  let  us  ever,  amidst  our  overwhelming  sense  of 
loss,  pray  and  endeavor  to  be  grateful  for  \\'hat  they  now 
sliare,  and  for  all  th-ey  were  to  us  when  on  earth.  Per- 
haps, too,  the  precious  links  which  have  bound  them  so 
blessedly  Xo  us  on  earth,  will  seem  in  time  no  less  precious 
because  the  other  end  of  the  golden  chain  is  now  in 
heaven,  ^[rs.  Smyth's  death  has  brought  afresli  to  uiy 
mind  and  heart  the  death  of  her  brother  Richard,  tlie  one 
of  all  my  college  classmates  who  I  think  loved  me  best, 
and  whose  death  I  cease  not   to   this  dav  to  feel    and  to 


62 

lament.  How  blessed  must  the  meetiuo;  be  of  kindred 
and  friends  in  that  better  world,  while  there  will  also  be 
the  pouring"  forth  of  endless  gratitude  for  immortality 
and  salvation  to  Him  who  hatli  redeemed  us  by  His  blood, 
and  is  the  resurrection  and  the  life. 

I  remain,  dear  friend, 

kSincerely  and  truly  yours, 

H.  E.  PAKKEK. 

(Professor  at  Dartmoutli  Colleg'c.) 


DovEK,  January  20,  1885. 
31;!  Di-ny  Goceri'ior  :  — 

I  notice  with  sadness  the  decease  of  your  dear  wife. 
Please  accept  my  sincere  sympathy  for  you  in  your  great 
attiietion.  I  realize  fully  what  it  is.  My  good  father 
died  December  25. 

"With  the  kindest  regards 

I  remain  sincerely  yours, 

CHARLES  A.  TUFTS. 


Camptox,  .January  20,  1885. 
71/y  Dear  Friend:  — 

I  most  deeply  sympathize  with  you  in  your  very  great 
sorrow.  Years  ago  I  passed  through  the  same  furnace, 
so  that  I  know  from  experience  how  to  feel  for  you. 
"^'our  wife  was  to  you  no  common  hel}»mate.     From  all 


63 

I  hud  ever  rseeii  of  her  and  from  all  I  heard,  she  wan  a  lady 
of  rare  attainments,  and  nseful  in  a)l  tlie  walks  of  life. 

Bnt,  my  dear  sir,  you  will  miss  her  as  no  other  can. 
As  the  days  come  and  go  you  will  feel  her  loss  as  no  one 
can  tell.  "Plow  lonely!  "  you  will  say,  as  you  return  to 
your  home  day  after  day.  Xo  one  now  to  share  your 
joys  and  help  bear  your  burdens,  as  she  could.  If  you 
had  plans  to  mature  and  carry  out,  who  so  ready  to  assist 
and  advise  as  she?  Your  most  tried  and  confidential 
friend  is  gone.  How  lonely  now  the  house,  how  dark 
the  very  road  seems  to  you,  now  tlie  great  earthly  burden- 
bearer  of  your  life  has  passed  away! 

But,  my  dear  triend,  I  do  not  write  thus  to  make  still 
deeper  the  wound  in  your  heart  already  made,  but  to 
give  you  some  little  evidence  of  my  deep  interest  in  you 
in  this  your  sore  trial,  and  more  especially  to  ask  you  to 
look  u[)to  the  great  heavenly  Burden-Bearer,  for  He  says, 
"  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest."  ^'es,  there  /'c.'  rest  in  Jesus.  Does  not 
hea^'en  now  seem  more  attractive  than  ever  before  ?  May 
not  this  be  a  divine  call  to  a  higher  and  a  brighter  conse- 
cration in  the  service  of  the  dear  Master? 

Let  me  assure  you  there  is  joy  in  believing  and  peace 
in  .Tesus.  Will  you  sutler  me  to  give  you  one  kind  word 
of  advice  now  in  this  your  great  need  ?  It  is  this:  Go 
to  Jesus  ill  your  closet,  and  tarry  there  till  you  shall  feel 
His  presence  lighting  u}>  your  very  pathway.  Xo  earthly 
hope  or  prop  satisties   now,   but  Jesus  says,  "  In    me  ye 


64 

shall  have  peace."  O  that  blessed  peace  !  may  it  be  yours. 
Please  accept  these  few  lines  of  sympathy  and  kind  ad- 
vice from 

Your  true  friend, 

W.  G.  BROWX. 

(Agent  N.  H.  Bible  Society.) 


U.  S.  Senate,  Wasiiin(;ton,  D.  C, 
January  20,  1885. 
J7'/  iJi'n-  S'r:  — 

I  have  learned  with  deep  regret  of  the  recent  death 
of  Mrs.  Smyth.  It  was  entirely  unexpected,  though  I 
thought  at  the  time  J  was  at  your  house  last  autumn  that 
she  was  not  in  her  usual  health.  Mrs.  Pike  joins  with 
me  in  sending  you  our  condolence  and  deepest  sympathy 
for  your  great  l)ereavement. 

I  reuutin  ycjurs  most  respectfully, 

AUSTIX  F.  PIKE. 
Hux.  Fkederick  Smyth. 


Lawrence,  Kan.,  January  20,  1885. 
Ex-Guv.  Smyth, — 

Bihii-ul  Sn'  and  Frktnl :  —  A  }tostal  card  froui  our 
daughter,  Mrs.  E.  B.  Payne,  s}icaks  of  Mrs.  Siuyth's 
death.  Is  it  so  ?  That  excellent  lady,  your  admirable 
wife,  called  away,  and  you  to  walk  alone  I 


65 

I  liasteii  to  send  my  lieurtie.st  8ynii):itliy  uiul  (lee[)est 
contribution  of  love  in  tliis  your  great  l)ereavenient.  Had 
I  not  walked  a  similar  pathway  (1862),  I  should  hardly 
feel  that  I  could  say  one  word  under  a  trial  so  very  great. 
How  again  she  comes  to  me  as  I  recall  her  handing  me 
her  large  woolen  shawl  on  the  ship  the  first  night  out 
from  Ik'vroot  as  I  was  al)Out  to  cam[i  on  deck,  and  I  see 
her  as  she  sat  in  the  studio  in  Home,  as  she  talked  to  me 
as  the  artist  was  turning  her  womanliness  into  marble. 
Again  she  comes  to  me  as  I  sit  at  your  table  in  your  own 
house,  from  whence  she  has  just  been  taken  out. 

Jt  was  infinite  love  that  gave  her  to  you,  and  the  same 
love  has  taken  her.  Be  comforted,  dear  sir,  He  makes 
no  mistakes.  His  name  is  love.  Could  you  write  me  u 
little  concerning  her  sickness  and  death  ?  1  shall  value 
it  so  much. 

Most  fraternally  and  under  much  obligation, 

(Rev.)  H.  K.  BUKXELL. 


Xasiiua,  .January  23,  1885. 
J/y  J)f<(r  Goccnior  tSm^/th  :  — 

The  sad  news  of  your  great  loss  was  to  me  like  a  }»er- 
sonal  bereavement.  Xo  one  eould  meet  Mrs.  Smyth 
without  yielding  at  onee  to  the  charm  of  her  sweet  pres- 
ence. Her  nature  was  so  flower-like  that  it  drew  out  the 
best  that  was  in  one,  and  attracted  it  to  itself  as  a  flower 
draws  sunshine.     Althou<di  1  am  one  of  the  vounirest  and 


66 

latest  of  her  friends,  I  am  none  the  less  unwilling  to  re- 
lin([uish  my  claim  to  that  title,  and  shall  always  carry  in 
the  holy  of  holies  of  my  memory  the  rememhrance  of 
her  kindness  and  cordiality  to  me.  The  recollection  of 
that  sunny  May-day,  which  was  made  especially  sunny 
to  me  by  being  passed  constantly  at  her  side,  is  among 
my  most  delightful  memories.  I  still  keep  a  flower  she 
wore,  which  she  gave  me  at  parting  as  a  souvenir  of  our 
pleasant  time  together. 

I  send  you  this,  not  in  an  impossible  hope  of  attempt- 
ing to  offer  the  least  consolation  to  such  grief  as  yours, 
V)ut  l^ecause  of  a  natural  impulse  to  tell  you  how  dear  slie 
Avas  to  even  me,  a  young,  lately  made  friend,  and  how 
far  the  gentle  influences  of  her  life  extended,  that  she 
could  make  even  one  chance  meeting  on  an  unimportant 
occasion  memorable  because  of  her  presence,  and  l)ecause 
her  gentle  loveliness  illumined  it. 

My  grandmamma,  who  has  known  and  ]<)ve<l  Mrs. 
Smyth  for  many  years,  is  too  distressed  to  attempt  at 
present  the  etlbrt  of  sending  you  any  expression  of  lier 
sympathy  except  through  me,  and  she  desires  me  to  tell 
you  how  truly  and  sincerely  she  sympatliizes  with  you, 
and  that  she  speaks  as  cnie  liaving  had  a  Intter  experience 
of  the  same  nature  in  the  loss  of  her  dear  husband. 

Believe  me  to  be,  dear  Governor  Smyth,  with  most 
earnest  sympathy. 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

'  Axxs.  G.  xoyp:s. 


67 

Boston,  January  20,  1885. 
My  Dear  Governor :  — 

I  have  learned  througli  the  papers  of  the  great  sorrow 
that  has  come  upon  you,  and  I  find  it  ahiiost  impos- 
sible to  believe  that  she  who  was  like  sunshine  to  all  who 
knew  her  will  no  longer  gladden  us  with  her  presence. 
My  heart  goes  out  to  you  with  a  great  throb  of  sympathy, 
which  I  have  hesitated  to  express,  but  I  loved  her  also. 
You  have  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  you  made  her 
hajipy,  and  tliat  the  world  is  better  for  her  having  lived 
in  it.     The  General  joins  me  in  sorrow  and  sympathy. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 
(Mrs.)  P]LIZABETH  L.  TILTOK 


Hanover,  January  24,  1885. 
Governor  Smyth, — 

Dcdr  Si)' :  —  I  am  following  out  the  promptings  of  my 
heart  even  at  the  risk  of  intruding  upon  you,  but  I  wanted 
to  assure  you,  in  writing  you,  of  the  deep 'interest  and 
sympathy  I  have  had  for  you  at  this  sad  time.  I  cannot 
realize  at  all  that  such  a  sorrow  has  come  to  your  life 
and  home.  I  had  no  knowledge  that  Mrs.  Smyth  was 
not  in  her  usual  health  until  the  pa}»ers  told  us  of  her 
illness  and  death.  I  would  like  to  know  something  more 
if  I  might.  It  seems  such  a  strange  Providence  that 
could  take  her  so  (juickly  from  so  much  in  life  that  was 
happy  and  bright.     This  m\stery  of  death,  of  God's  ways 


68 

not  our  ways,  the  separation  of  those  whose  joy  is  life 
together,  is  all  past  our  comprehension  here.  Only  faith 
can  help  us  to  struggle  on  through  the  shadowed  way 
here  to  light  and  life  hereafter. 

I  remember  so  well  the  first  time  I  met  your  wife,  of 
the  merry  time  here  fifteen  years  ago.  Memory  brings 
up  the  beautiful  face  and  winsome  manner  of  the  lovely 
woman  every  one  called  charming.  The  }»leasant  cour- 
tesies from  you  and  her  to  myself  and  husband  will  never 
be  forgotten.  I  liad  hoped  sometime  to  see  her  again ; 
now  our  meeting  will  never  be  here.  It  is  all  very,  very 
sad,  and  I  know  your  life  is  desolated;  but  sometimes  in 
our  deepest  grief  we  are  glad  to  know  friends  remend)er 
us,  and  it  is  that  which  has  urged  me  to  write  you  these 
few  words.  I  never  had  the  happy  faculty  of  saying  the 
right  word  in  the  right  place,  and  I  can  bring  no  words 
of  comfort  other  than  those  I  am  sure  you  know, '  He 
doth  not  willingly  aftiict,''  and  He  only  can  bind  up  the 
broken  heart. 

Your  sincere  friend, 
(Mrs.)  SARAH  C.  BLAXPIED. 


IJusTON,  January  25,  1885. 
Mj  Dear  Gorcrnor  :  — 

I  cannot  withhold  the   expression  of  my   sympathy  in 
your  great  Ijereavemeiit.     You  have  passed  beneath   tlie 


69 

great  Hlmdow,  and  I  know  Avhat  it  is  to  lia\X'  tlio  sun 
withdraw  its  li<i:lit.  Your  wife  was  in  every  sense  a  most 
remarkable  woman.  No  one  knew  lier  but  to  respect 
and  love  her.  ller  influence  was  felt  in  (.-very  society  of 
which  she  was  a  part,  and  entered  largely  into  circles 
where  her  presence  was  never  known. 

I  give  you  my  heart-felt  sympathy.  I  know  it  is  a 
poverty-stricken  gift  to  a  bereaved  and  afflicted  man,  but 
that,  with  my  earnest  prayer  for  the  blessing  of  God  to 
comfort  you,  is  all  I  can  bestow. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

DANIEL  XEEDHAM. 


Lynx,  Mass.,  January  25,  1885. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

Dear  Sir  :  —  We  learn  with  sorrow  that  sad  news  from 
your  home.  The  death  of  your  estimable  wife  is  deeply 
regretted  l)y  all  who  knew  her,  and  having  no  other 
means  of  ex[)ressing  our  regard  for  her  memory  we  send 
these  few  lines.  Her,  uol)le  character  and  kiiul  consider- 
ation for  all  won  our  love  at  once.  Wc  foel  the  same 
toward  yourself.  The  kindness  shown  us  will  never  be 
forgotten  ;  and  we  trust  that  the  numy  friends  you  have 
around  you,  who  have  shared  the  burdens  of  your  busy 
life,  will  be  spared  to  make  the  declining  years  of  your 
life  ha}ipy.  Like  a  dewdro}*  or  a  sunbeam  we  would 
add  our  little  mite,  and  though  we  nuiy  not  be  distin- 


70 

guished  among  the  many  rays  of  love's  sun  you  feel 
and  see,  we  will  be  there  with  a  loving  warmth  all  the 
same.  We  have  thought  of  you  often  and  of  Col,  Water- 
man Smith,  who  was  so  kind  to  us  during  your  absence 
in  Europe.  Please  tell  him  of  our  love  and  remem- 
brance. 

Yours  truly, 

William"  stirlixg. 

(For  a  time  the  farmer  in  cliarge  at  "  Tlie  Willows.") 


National  Soldiers'  Home,  Dayton,  0., 
January  26,  1885. 
Gov.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

Mij  Dear  Sir  and  Frknd :  —  We  were  greatly  shocked 
to  learn  of  the  death  of  your  beloved  wife.  We  had  not 
heard  of  her  illness,  and  this  added  greatly  to  our  sur- 
prise. My  dear  Governor,  what  shall  I  say  by  way  of 
comforting  you  ?  I  know  so  well  the  [)Overty  of  words 
to  relieve  when  our  dear  ones  are  taken  away  by  the 
hand  of  relentless  death.  I  can  only  commend  you  to 
the  consolations  of  the  gospel  of  our  own  dear  Saviour, 
in  which  you  have  l)elievcd  and  trusted.  It  is  too  true 
that  our  loved  ones  cainiot  come  to  us  again,  and  that 
we  shall  see  then  no  more  on  earth,  but  there  is  a  bright 
side  to  all  this  sorrow.  While  we  weej)  and  are  incon- 
solable, they  are  indescribably  happy.  ]]lear  Mrs.  Smyth 
now  walks  the  streets  of  the  Xew  Jerusalem,  and   dwells 


71 

in  the  "city  that  hath  foundations,  whose  maker  and 
builder  is  God,"  and  there  she  awaits  your  coniing.  Let 
the  sweet  hope  of  meeting  your  loved  one  cheer  you  even 
in  those  dark  hours.  0  liow  I  wish  I  could  say  just  one 
word  that  would  relieve  your  stricken  heart !  My  wife 
and  children  tearfully  join  me  in  ex|)ressions  of  tenderest 
sympathy,  and  most  earnestly  entreat  the  loving  Father 
whom  you  serve  to  bless  and  comfort  you. 
Sorrowfully  and  lovinglv, 

WILLIAM    EARXSHAW. 

(Cliaplain.) 


Dei't.  of  Agrici^lture,  AVashington, 
January  27,  1885. 
My  Dear  GoccrKor :  — 

I  have  learned  with  great  sorrow  the  loss  you  have  sus- 
tained ])y  the  departure  of  your  good  wife.  I  know  her 
true  merit,  her  devotion  to  you,  the  wise  sujtport  she  gave 
you,  and  the  high  place  she  filled  in  the  circle  of  her 
friends.  You  alone  can  realize  the  loss  of  one  who  has 
been  your  life-long  companion,  but  lean  sympathize  with 
you,  and  I  know  well  how  cold  and  bare  the  world  seems 
when  the  friend  of  your  heart  is  taken  away. 
Truly  your  friend, 

'   ^GEORGE  r>.  LORIXG. 

(Coiiiiiiissioiier.) 


72 
Denvkk,  Col.,  January  27,  1885. 

I  liave  heard  to-day  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Smyth,  wiiich 
was  entirely  unexpected,  not  knowing  of  lier  illness.  I 
beg  to  express  my  sincere  s3-mpathy  u}>on  your  great 
bereavement,  and  to  remind  you  that  in  the  o])iniori  of 
all  who  knew  her  she  did  her  duty,  and  fought  the  good 
tight  well,  leaving  a  record  of  true  nobility  unexcelled  by 
any  lady  in  the  history  of  Xew  iram}>shire. 
A'cry  truly  yours, 

"^R.  AV.  WOODBTRA'. 

(PresicSent  of  Denver  Bourtl  of  Trade.) 


IIoMEViLLK,  C'.  B.,  January  26,  1885. 
J)((ir  Governor :  — 

I  su}ipose  no  words  of  sym[)atliy  can  comfort  you  in 
the  hour  of  trial.  IFow  can  I  realize  that  Mrs.  Smyth 
has  ])een  called  away  from  you  to  a  better  world  I  How 
sad  you  must  fee!  I  ^'ou  ha\-e  my  heartfelt  sympathy, 
and  I  am  so  sorry  I  was  not  there  to  see  her  before  she 
died,  r  shall  never  forget  her  many  kind  words  and 
looks  and  acts  to  me.  I  loved  her  next  to  mother,  and 
no  greater  friend  I  had  than  she.  AVhy  did  God  call  her 
away  so  soon,  wiien  she  was  so  much  needed  here?  But 
God's  ways  are  mysterious,  and  we  must  say,  His  will  be 
<lone.  I  have  many  things  to  thank  Mrs.  Smyth  for,  and 
maii\-  iritts  to  remendjer  her  bv.      Mav  (^od  sustain  and 


kt't'})  you  ill  tliis  dark  lioiir  of  trial  and  affliction,  and 
may  we  all  strive  to  nioet  lier  in  heaven.  l)iit  it"  words 
tail  to  ex[»ress  my  teeliiiii'.  what  must  yoiir.s  l)e  ?  I  jiray 
you  live  in  the  hope  of  meeting  her  again  ;  she  has  only 
gone  hetbrt',  and  will  meet  you  there.  We  all  send  heart- 
felt sympathy,  —  father,  mother,  and  the  others. 
AVith  my  hest  regards, 

blllUSTIXA  HOLMES. 

(Ilousekeopor  lor  INfrs.  Smyth  iiiiuiy  years.) 


Manchester,  January  :>1,  1885. 
Jjcar  S/'f :  — 

We  feel  that  we  cannot  let  this  great  attiictioii  and  loss 
come  to  you  without  expressing  our  sympathy  as  old 
frieiuls.  A\^3  who  have  known,  admired,  and  loved  her 
all  these  years,  feel  that  what  has  heen  said  and  written 
in  regard  to  her  is  all  true,  and  we  wish,  now  that  the  tirst 
great  shock  of  parting  is  o\'er,  to  say  we  gi\e  you  most 
heartfelt  symjiathy. 

Mk.  "am.  Mrs.   HEXJAMIX  KIXSLEY. 


Daytox,  ().,  danuary  27,  188."). 
J/'/  I)i(ir  (r<ir.  Siiiijth  :  — 

I  am  deeply  pained  at  the  word  which  has  just  reached 
me  of  the  death   of  niv  dear   friend,  vour   sweet    wife.      I 


74 

feel  as  though   I  liad  lost  one  of  my  own,  and  cannot 
express  how  much  I  am  grieved.     Mv  husband  joins  me 
in  sympathizing  with  you  in  your  great  atHiction. 
Believe  me  your  sincere  friend, 
(Mrs.)  KATE  ^V.  GUI^CKEL. 

(Wile  of  Gen.  Gunckel  ) 

MoBERLY,  Mo.,  January  28,  1885. 

Gov.  S.MY'JII, — 

Kind  Sir  :  —  Your  sad  letter  of  the  21st  received  yes- 
terday. AVords  cannot  express  my  feelings  when  I 
learned  the  sorrowful  news.  Memory  carried  me  back  to 
the  time  when  all  was  dark  and  gloomy;  when  she  came 
to  me  as  an  angel ;  and  I  shed  one  scalding  tear  to  her 
dear  memory  which  I  shall  carry  with  me  to  tlie  grave. 

I  am  truly  grateful  to  you  foi-  remend)ering  me. 


Tlii.s  note  so  interested  the  recipient  that  he  immediately  forwarded  the 
request  alluded  to  in  the  letter  which  follows  :  — 

MoBEKLY,  Mo.,  February  16,  1885. 
Guv.  Frederick  ^>myth, — 

JJtar  Sir:  —  Your  letter  of  February  4,  was  received 
by  due  course  of  mail.  I  thank  you  for  your  expressions 
of  regard,  and  reci[)rocate  the  kindness  you  feel.  You 
ask  me  to  detail  the  circumstances  under  which  I  met 
your  wife,  and  the  causes  which  led  me  to  esteem  her  so 
highlv.      Tlie  tale   is  a  short  one.     On  the   7t]i   day   of 


75 

December,  1881,  I  was  iiremaii  on  a  freiglit  train  running 
into  Kansas  City.  At  a  point  (Jiock  Creek)  between 
Kansas  City  and  Independence  an  accident  happened  to 
the  train  on  wliich  I  was  employed  (rear-end  collision), 
by  which  I  received  very  severe  and  what  appeared  to  be 
fatal  injuries.  I  was  taken  back  to  Independence,  where 
the  surgeons  cared  for  me  and  did  what  they  could  to 
stanch  the  tiow  of  blood  and  ease  my  suffering.  Mrs. 
Smyth  was  on  board  a  train  going  east  from  Kansas  City, 
which  was  detained  for  several  hours  by  the  accident  to 
the  freight  train.  It  arrived  at  Independence  about  the 
time  the  surgeons  had  finished  Innding  uj*  my  wounds, 
and  I  was  placed  on  board  and  in  the  sleeper  in  which 
Mrs.  Smyth  had  taken  passage.  To  her  I  was  a  perfect 
stranger,  of  course,  but  the  sight  of  suffering  and  distress 
stirred  the  deepest  sympathies  of  a  luiturally  sympathetic 
heart,  and  no  mother  ever  ministered  to  the  wants  of  her 
wounded  son  with  more  tender  devotion  than  did  ^Irs. 
Smyth  to  mine.  Every  little  act  of  kindness  that  a 
woman's  gentle  and  affectionate  nature  could  suggest  was 
lavished  u[»on  a  poor  fireman  Avhom  she  had  never  seen 
nor  even  heard  of  before.  My  home  is  in  Mexico,  Mo., 
a  distance  of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from 
Independence,  and  during  all  that  distance,  neglecting 
the  sleep  and  rest  her  age  and  physical  weakness  required, 
she  gave  me  every  attention  that  my  own  mother  could 
possibly  have  shown.  Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  I  cher- 
ish a  sense  of  gratitude  for  her  kindness  and  deep  affec- 


76 

tion  for  her  nieiuorv  ?  8uch  attentions  to  a  stranger  from 
a  woman  in  her  station  were  sufticient  to  awaken  the  live- 
liest emotions,  and  to  cause  the  recipient  to  feel  that  life 
is  worth  the  living :  that  all  are  not  cold  and  heartless, 
and  the  world  is  not  a  desert  without  an  oasis.  I  shall 
ever  remember  her  as  a  guardian  angel,  a  true  Samaritan 
whose  good  deeds  went  u[>  as  sweet  incense  to  the  throne 
of  the  Most  Higli. 

Thanking  you  for  your  ex[)ressions  of  regard,  I  am, 

Yours  trul}-, 
FRANK  r>.  CRADDOCK. 


Xewpokt,  January  30,  1885. 
iJiiir  Sir  'i/iil  Fi'it  ihI  :  — 

AVe,  tlie  undersigned,  re})resenting  the  organizations 
named  helow,  wish  to  express  our  heartfelt  sympathy  for 
vou  in  the  loss  of  your  companion,  whom  to  know  was  to 
esteem  and  love. 

May  the  great  Friend  and  Father  of  us  all  comfort  and 
l)less  you. 

(Signed) 

E.  M.  KEMPTOX, 
CHARLES  ][.  LITTLE, 
OnniiiiiUr  of  FmL  Snu/th  I'o^i  Ao.  10. 

M.  S.  AVALDROX, 
T.  F.  PUTXAM, 
A.  IT.  KEMPTOX, 

0>nniiittt:t    of  FrCil.   Siiii/f/>    lidnf  (JorpS  No.  7. 


WashiN(;to.\,  February  1,  IHSf), 
J/y  Deur  GorcrKor  Smyth:  — 

I  have  just  lieard  of  your  great  atilictiou  through  the 
iie\vs|iai>er  sent  my  father,  an<l  I  cannot  resist  writing  and 
telling  you  how  much  I  also  loved  Mrs.  Smyth,  and  that 
all  my  sym[)athies  are  with  you.  It  was  such  a  shock,  as 
I  did  not  even  dream  tliat  she  was  ill.  I  know  liow  hadly 
hoth  my  father  and  mother  will  feel  when  they  hear  the 
sad  tidings.  They  have  been  South  for  two  weeks,  and 
father  imj»roving  all  the  time. 

I  pray  God  that  he  will  help  you  in  this  your  terrible 
atfliction,  and  remend)er  tliat  I  loved  her. 

Always  very  sincerely  yours, 

MAKV  F.  WAFFF. 

(Diiugliter  of  Cliief-Iusticc  Wuite.) 

LoAVKLL,  Mass,  Feb.  1,  1885. 
J/y  Dcor  Goi't  mur  Smi/tli :  — 

On  my  return  from  "Washington  1  was  inexpressibly 
grieved  to  learn  for  the  first  time  of  the  <leath  of  your 
most  amiable  and  lovely  wife,  aiul,  my  dear  friend,  it 
was  a  blow  for  which  I  was  not  prepared,  even  by  knowl- 
edge of  dangerous  illness.  I  had  heard  of  Mrs.  Smyth's 
sickness  in  the  early  autumn,  l)ut  had  also  heard  of  what 
I  had  supposed  to  be  her  recovery.  Christmas  morning 
I  received  her  and  your  most  kindly  teleithonic  message 
at  my  house,  so  like  you  both   that   I  rejoiced   in    ajipre- 


78 

ciation  of  your  kindly  friendship.  I  have  been  through  a 
like  terrible  Ijereavement ;  but  even  that  has  not  gifted 
me  with  words  of  consolation,  or  with  phrases  with  which 
to  alleviate  deep  sorrow.  At  such  a  time  words  are  sim- 
ply mockery.  They  address  themselves  to  the  intellect 
and  to  reason.  But  what  do  they  do  when  the  heart  is 
torn  and  every  heart-string  broken ;  when  the  present 
life  is  misery  made  torture  by  vivid  remembrance  of  all 
that  was,  and  is  loved  and  lost  ?  Time,  alas  !  is  the  only 
healer ;  but  even  that  remedy  is  useless  if  you  give  it  not 
opportunity,  which  I  fear  you  will  not  do.  Largely  with- 
drawn from  the  cares  of  business,  with  too  nmch  leisure, — 
for  you  will  use  it  in  brooding  over  remembrances  that 
will  simply  stinmlate  grief,  —  you  will  give  time  no  oppor- 
tunity to  do  its  kindly  promised  work  in  your  behalf. 

I  pray  you,  therefore,  my  dear  friend,  to  plunge  into 
some  occupation,  some  aifair  that  shall  be  urgent  and 
exacting,  which  will  command  your  withdrawal  from 
self-introspection.  This  is  the  advice,  I  am  sure,  the 
clear  intellect  and  loving  heart  of  her  who  has  gone 
would  give  you  could  she  return  to  guide  your  steps  to 
ha}>[)iness  as  she  has  so  long  done. 

])o  not  yourself  feel  that  withdrawing  your  mind  from 
your  great  loss  is  an  injustice  or  wrong  to  her,  or  forget- 
fulness  of  her  great  worth.  I  may  venture  to  imagine 
that  she  herself — if  those  who  are  gone  are  permitted  to 
deal  with  earthly  matters  —  would  not  so  view  the  course 
of  action  I  pro}iose.     Honor  her  memory  l)y  alleviating 


79 

yourt<orro\v  at  her  loss  by  every  possible  means.  "Would 
she  not  do  everytliing  to  that  end  in  regard  to  a  sorrow 
for  any  other  loss,  if  she  were  with  you  ? 

Why  not,  then,  nuike  distraction  from  poignant  grief,  in 
which  she  would  not  fail  to  aid  you,  a  means  of,  in  some 
degree,  the  continuing  of  her  loving-kindness  for  these  so 
many  years?  Ponder  upon  this,  my  friend,  and  see  if  I 
am  not  in  the  right;  and  I  may  hope  that  health  and 
strength  will  be  spared  us  to  meet  soon  to  exchange  views 
upon  this  matter  face  to  face,  —  not  that  our  joy  may  be 
full,  but  that  our  grief  may  be  less. 

Very  truly,  your  friend, 

BEXJ.  F.  BUTLER. 

Gov.  Frederick  Smyth, 

Manchester,  N.  H. 


Newton  Highlands,  Mass., 
February  3,  1885. 
Dear  Uncle  Frederick :  — 

I  would  like  you  to  know  how  much  I  do  feel  the  loss 
of  my  dear  Aunt  Eiiiily.  She  was  very  dear  to  me,  and 
has  always  done  so  much  to  nuike  my  life  happier,  to 
help  me  in  many  ways.  With  her  large,  warm  heart  it 
was  natural  for  her  to  be  kind  and  pleasant  to  all,  to 
cheer  them  l)y  her  words  and  ever  })leasant  looks  and 
deeds.  But  }ierhap3  it  was  not  always  easy  for  her  to  do 
this,  as  she  nuiy  have  had  many  cares  and  trials  tliat  we 


80 

did  not  know  ot".  It  is  not  easy  for  any  one  to  always 
have  a  cheerthl  face,  to  s[)eak  kindly,  and  to  do  the  good 
deed,  and  it  is  rare  to  find  sncli  an  one.  I  think  nmcli 
now  of  the  times  past  when  I  have  heen  with  her  and  niy 
other  annts,  the  happiest  times  of  my  life,  and  think  that 
perhaps  she  and  they  did  not  know  that  I  so  much  appre- 
ciated all  that  they  have  done  for  me,  all  that  they  have 
been  to  me.  Xow  that  I  cannot  speak  to  her,  I  am  afraid 
that  she  did  not  know  how  much  I  loved  her.  Let  me 
tell  this  to  you.  I  shall  talk  to  my  children  of  her,  try- 
ing to  have  them  remend)er  her,  and  if  my  daughters 
would  grow  u[»  to  he  such  a  blessing  to  the  world  as  she 
has  lieen,  we  shall  be  very  glad. 

^'ou  must  learn  to  love  to  think  of  her  in  that  new  and 
ha[)}ty  home,  though  the  years  of  waiting  before  you  can 
sec  her  must  seem  too  long  to  be  endured.  My  husl)and 
and  I  feel  much  for  you  in  your  desolation,  and  hope  that 
after  a  time  you  may  be  able  to  take  up  your  life,  though 
broken,  and  carry  it  on  to  the  end, — to  the  reunion. 
"S'<»ur  very  affectionate  niece, 

MAliv  A.  PKEXDKHGAST. 


J'ORT  Hoi'E,  February  3,  1885. 
p].\-(4uv.  Smyth, — 

J/y  J)(<tr  Sir :  —  I  extend  to  you  my  lieartfelt  sympathy. 
1  remain,  my  dear  sir,  your  friend, 

.MAG(;iK  P,rTTKKFIFJ;i). 


81 

Manchester,  February  3,  1885. 
Dear  Goc.  S/Hj/lh  :  — 

I  should  have  called  to  oft'er  you  my  synii)athy  in  your 
great  sorrow,  but  I  have  been  ill  in  bed  since  Christmas. 
I  asked  Xellie  to  open  the  window  in  an  adjoining  room 
so  that  I  could  hear  the  chimes  as  they  played  a  requiem 
to  one  so  dearly  loved.  My  dear  Governor,  believing  in 
immortality  and  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  so  you  will 
again  see  the  beloved.  Her  hand  will  unlock  the  pearly 
gate  to  show  you  her  heavenly  homo. 

"  They  err  who  tell  us  love  can  die. 
With  life  all  other  passions  fly, 
All  others  are  but  vanity. 
Its  holy  flame  forever  burneth, 
From  heaven  it  came,  to  heaven  returneth." 

(Mrs.)  C.  a.  SAXDERSOX. 


Bri(4HT0N,  Eng.,  February  3,  1885. 
J/y  Dorr  Gov.  Smyth :  — 

I  have  just  heard  through  a  letter  from  Concord  of  the 
death  of  your  wife,  and  I  hasten  to  tell  you  how  deeply 
I  sympathize  with  you  in  this  sore  troul)le  that  has  come 
upon  you,  and  I  pray  that  God  may  give  you  grace  to 
bear  it.  You  may  remend^er  that  at  one  time  I  saw  Mrs. 
Smyth  very  often,  and  I  thought  a  great  deal  of  her,  and 
I  had  every  reason  to  believe  she  reciprocated  the  feeling. 

6 


82 

My  dear  father,  too,  was  always  interested  in  her,  and 
would  ask  nie  in  my  frequent  visits  to  him  in  Providence, 
"  How  is  Mrs.  Governor  Smyth  ?  "  and  would  invariably 
add,  "  She  is  a  great  woman,"  which  with  him  expressed 
a  great  deal.  I  sent  you  and  Mrs.  Smyth  last  summer  a 
memorial  of  him,  hut  suppose  you  never  received  it,  as 
I  lieard  nothing  from  you  to  that  effect.  And  now  the 
l)ond  that  has  so  long  bound  you  and  your  wife  together 
in  the  holiest  ties  is  forever  broken  in  this  world,  but  to 
be  carried  on  in  that  world  where  all  is  light  and  love 
and  joy.  My  esteem  for  her  was  very  great.  May  our 
divine  Lord  have  you  in  His  holy  keeping. 

Sincerely  yours, 

JANE  A.  EAMES. 

(Wife  of  ttie  late  Dr.  Eames  of  Concord.) 

Washington,  February  4,  1885. 
3I;i  Dear  3Ir.  Sntijth  :  — 

For  two  weeks  I  have  waited  to  write  you  a  few  lines 
to  say  how  much  we  feel  for  you  in  your  great  sorrow, 
and  yet  I  have  put  it  off  each  day  because  I  feared  you 
would  be  over-run  witli  just  such  letters  and  weary  of 
reading  them.  "We  have  thought  of  you  often  and  talked 
of  you  much. 

There  is  nothing  we  can  say  to  lighten  your  suffer- 
ings, but  we  wanted  you  to  know  you  had  our  heart-felt 
.>^ympathies.  Yours  very  sincerely, 

MAKY  STEARNS  BROOKE. 

(Wife  of  Gen.  Brooke.) 


83 

State  Board  of  Health,  Lunacy,  and  Charity, 
Boston,  February  9,  1885. 
Dear  Sir :  — 

The  respect  uiul  sympathy  of  the  Board  is  extended  to 
you  in  your  l)ereaveinent.  The  Tioard  also  desires  to 
convey  to  you  its  sense  of  its  own  loss,  remembering  the 
willing  and  efficient  services  rendered  to  this  common- 
wealth by  the  late  Mrs.  Smyth  while  auxiliary  visitor. 

Respectfully  yours, 

JOHX  I).  WELLS,  Clerk. 


TiLDEN  Ladies'  Seminary,  West  Lebanon, 
Governor  Smyth,  -  February  4,  1885. 

Dear  Sir :  —  I  have  but  recently  learned  of  the  great 
grief  which  has  come  to  your  heart  and  life,  and  I  beg 
to  tender  you  my  sympathy.  I  can  understand  your 
loss  but  in  a  small  degree,  but  I  can  see  what  a  great 
change  has  come  to  you.  I  have  been  thinking  of  you 
both  as  in  Florida,  and  hoping  all  good  things  for  Mrs. 
Smyth,  l)ut  I  suppose  you  didn't  go.  It  will  be  no  small 
grief  to  me  that  I  can  never  look  into  her  cheery  face 
again  here,  but  I  hope  to  hereafter,  and  the  time  cannot 
be  long  for  any  of  us.  This  thought  and  the  hope  of 
Christian  faith  will  help  to  make  the  coming  years  a  little 
less  hard.  I  wish  it  were  in  my  i)0wer  to  do  something 
to  help  you,  but  I  know  how  weak  are  words  at  such  a 


84 

time,  and  how  little  I  have  to  otter  besides  words.  I 
think  of  her  as  your  companion  more  than  most  wives 
are  companions  of  their  husbands,  she  was  able  to  go 
with  you  so  much  and  to  enjoy  what  you  enjoyed. 
Now  that  she  is  done  with  earthly  joys  and  has  laid  down 
her  earthly  burdens  and  left  you  to  bear  alone  whatever 
life  has  in  store  for  you,  I  trust  your  courage  will  not 
fail  in  the  good  works  in  which  she  took  delight,  and  in 
which  her  willing  heart  and  hand  stayed  yours  up.  May 
the  dear  Heavenly  Father  strengthen  you  and  comfort 
you  in  every  good  work  as  only  such  a  comforter  can,  till 
he  calls  you  again  to  her  side.  Mrs.  Barlow  joins  me  in 
good  wishes  and  sympatliy. 

Yours  cordially, 

E.  HUBBARD  BARLOW. 

(Principal.) 


Beloit,  Wis.,  February  5,  1885. 
Dear  Friend. .-  — 

You  will  not,  I  trust,  deem  it  out  of  place  for  me  to 
extend  to  you  my  heartfelt  sympathy  in  the  trial  through 
which  you  are  called  to  pass.  It  is,  I  think,  an  expe- 
rience which  none  can  realize  in  any  other  way  than  to 
}»ass  through  it.  Words  are  meaningless  only  as  they 
discover  the  heart  that  prompts  them ;  and  as  I  read  a 
few  days  ago  an  account  of  that  Sabl)ath  afternoon,  and 
the  description  given   by  Dr.  S}>alding  of  your  "  loved 


85 


one  gone  before,"  that  iiching  void  coming  to  your  l)reast, 
these  (luys  revived  so  distinctly  my  experience  in  1882, 
that  I  felt  I  must  let  you  know  that  I  could  share  it. 

On  the  morning  of  the  6th  of  A})ril  of  that  year,  with- 
out warning,  a  kindred  spirit  was  called  from  my  side  to 
take  its  liight  from  eartli,  and  I  was  left  as  you  are,  in  the 
sense  of  being  alone,  which  I  saw  beautifully  expressed 
in  a  poem*  written  by  H.  W.  Longfellow  in  1861,  after 
the  death  of  his  wife,  which  found  its  way  into  the  "  Inde- 
pendent," and  was  copied  in  the  "  X.  H.  Statesman." 

Again  tlie  same  day  I  picked  up  the  account  of  the 
Londonderry  celel)ration  in  1869,  and  accidentally  my 
eye  fell  on  the  sketch  there  given  of  you,  and  saw  that 
you  were  born  the  same  day  I  was,  March  9,  1819,  and 
that  you  were  married  the  same'  year  we  were,  but  Mrs. 
H.  was  l»orn  February  8,  1821.  So  your  tie  lasted  two 
and  three-fourths  years  more  than  mine. 

As  I  look  back  over  life  it  seems  a  mystery,  but  am 
often  led  to  exclaim,  "  All  is  well  done,"  and  can  feel 
assured  our  God  makes  no  mistakes. 

With  sincere  sympathy  yours, 

J.  A.  HOLMES. 

Hiawatha,  Kax.,  February  9,  1885. 
3Li  Diw  Frkixl :  — 

Tliough  nuiny  miles  away,  I  weep  ■with  you  over  the 
loss  of  vour  beloved   wife   and   mv  dearest   la<lv  friend. 


room  wiU  be  found  at  the  con-micnccmont  of  tlr.s  volume. 


86 

She  held  a  place  in  my  heart  next  to  mother,  dearer  than 
any  aunt  (except  one). 

How  could  we  bear  to  have  her  taken,  except  that  we 
feel  that  it  is  better  for  her  ?  but  for  us,  —  there  is  a  void 
which  no  other  can  fill. 

She  was  my  ideal  of  a  true  woman.  I  never  was  with 
her  but  I  felt  benefited  and  had  a  higher  sense  of  the 
duties  of  a  woman's  life.  Many  are  the  happy  hours  she 
has  made  for  me.  That  house  seemed  to  be  my  house 
also.  I  am  so  glad  I  saw  her  and  had  a  parting  kiss  from 
her  last  summer.  I  want  her  photograph  very  much  to 
place  beside  yours.  I  never  had  one  of  her  except  one 
taken  twent}^  years  ago. 

You  have  the  sympathy  of  a  large  circle  of  friends  in 
your  bereavement.     You  may  feel  sure  I  sorrow  most 
for  lier  who  was  so  dear.     May  we  all  meet  there. 
Ever  your  true  friend, 

HELEX  JEFFERS. 


150  Madison   Street,  Chicago, 
February  11,  1885. 
Bcloced  tilr  and  Friend :  — 

Had  I  not  walked  a  similar  pathway  I  should  not  feel 
that  I  could  say  anything  to  you  in  this  the  hour  of  your 
great  bereavement.  He  whose  name  is  love  can  make  no 
mistake.  Love  gave  and  love  hath  taken  away.  I  am 
very  grateful  indeed  that  my  life   has  been  enriched  by 


87 

some  acquaintance  with  your  departed  wife.  It  is  said 
that  travel  tests  character;  with  hej*  my  acquaintance  was 
hirgely  at  sea  and  in  the  cities  of  Asia  Minor.  Taking 
ship  at  Beyroot  for  Constantinople  I  took  a  third-class 
ticket.  Prof.  Porter  went  out  with  me  into  the  offing  to 
introduce  some  one  on  board  who  could  speak  English. 
Xo  one  could  be  found,  and  he  returned  to  the  shore 
leaving  me  among  a  great  crowd  of  Arabs,  Turks,  Jews, 
and  Mohammedans,  and  every  square  foot  of  the  deck 
was  covered  by  some  one  who  like  me  held  a  deck 
ticket.  We  were  not  long  in  discovering  tlie  English- 
speaking  chief  engineer,  to  whom  we  made  known  that 
we  were  making  a  tour  of  the  world  in  Christian  work 
on  nine  hundred  dollars,  and  he  most  kindly  interviewed 
the  captain,  who  at  once  gave  orders  that  I  be  assigned 
to  the  cabin  deck.  This  practically  made  of  me  (in  loca- 
tion) a  cabin  passenger.  Among  the  first  in  my  ac- 
<iuaintance-making  were  yourself  and  Mrs.  Smyth.  It 
was  but  natural  that  the  captain's  kindness  should  be 
spoken  of,  and  how  and  why  I  was  making  the  world's 
tour.  To  sleep  on,  that  cabin  deck  was  no  trouble  to 
me,  but  a  great  favor.  How  distinctly  Mrs.  Smyth's 
expression  comes  to  me  now  as  she  said :  "  You  are 
not  to  sleep  on  this  deck  all  night?"  "Certainly,"  I 
replied,  "it  is  a  })rivilege  that  I  prize  very  highly." 
"  Suppose  it  storms  ? "  "  Why  then  the  gangways  are 
allowed  for  use  to  some  extent."  When  she  arose  to 
go  l)elow   to   lior   state-room,  she  handed   me  her   large 


88 

woolen  blanket-shawl  saying,  "  It  may  possibly  be  in 
demand  during  the  night."  While  memory  lasts  I 
shall  not  forget  her  thoughtful  kindness  that  my  nights 
in  the  open  air  on  the  Mediterranean  might  be  made 
comfortable. 

In  our  five  days  on  the  steamer  in  the  Grecian  Archi- 
pelago, four  in  Constantinople,  five  in  Athens,  seven  in 
Rome,  two  in  Venice,  and  a  half-day  at  old  Smyrna,  my 
opportunities  could  scarcely  have  been  better  to  have  ob- 
tained a  pretty  close  view  of  one's  inner  life.  At  Sm^-rna 
you,  my  dear  sir,  will  remember  that  we  visited  the  house 
of  a  lady  missionary  (Mrs.  West),  and  how  deeply  inter- 
ested Mrs.  Smyth  was.  She  asked  many  questions  con- 
cerning her  work,  and  the  missionary  woman  not  only 
felt  that  they  were  dictated  l)y  an  interest  in  that  work, 
but  also  by  a  sincere  personal  regard  for  herself 

This  was  true  of  her  as  she  impressed  herself  upon  me. 
In  such  leisure  as  is  incident  to  sea  travel,  I  was  led  to 
tell  her  of  my  endeavors  in  evangelistic  work  for  nearly  a 
(juarter  of  a  century,  in  all  sorts  of  places,  in  all  varieties 
of  army  experience,  in  the  dark  places  in  cities,  in  open- 
air  ndssions,  etc.,  etc.,  in  all  of  whicli  she  evinced  a  per- 
sonal interest.  You  will  remember  our  attempt  at  a 
Sa1)bath  service  on  the  Mediterranean  when  so  many 
of  the  passengers  were  Mohammedans,  which  in  the  end 
we  did  not  have,  and  how  very  much  slie  regretted  it. 

As  she  sat  in  the  studio  at  Rome  for  her  bust,  I  was 
delighted  and  jirofited  Ity  her  conversation.  Fearing  lest 
Tniiii'lit  disturb  the  artist  in  liis  niodolinfr  T  said:  "T  must 


89 

leave  or  you  will  get  worked  into  clay  and  so  into  marble 
as  you  appear  by  the  fireside  at  home,  or  as  T  have  seen 
you  on  shi[>1>oar(l."  With  her  eharminii;  smile  she  re- 
plied :  "  That's  exactly  what  I  want  to  he ;  what  I  am  at 
home  in  the  details  of  domestic  life,  wliat  I  am  as  I  jour- 
ney, what  I  am  with  my  friends,  and  would  be  to  every 
one.''  Noticing  a  line  or  two  in  her  face  indicative  of 
the  approach  of  middle  age,  I  said  :  "  The  speaking  mar- 
ble must  show  those  lines,"  "  Of  course,"  she  laughingly 
replied,  "  they  indicate  character." 

My  last  interview  was  at  your  l)eautiful  home  on  the 
banks  of  the  Merrimack,  What  a  royal  welcome  she 
gave  !  IIow  she  talked  with  you  at  the  office  through  the 
telephone  I  How  cheery  and  bright,  companionable  and 
friendly,  was  the  table  talk  !  I  remember  the  face  of  the 
old  Jersey  cow  on  the  wall  and  what  she  said  of  her  value; 
and  after  dinner  she  took  me  leisurely  from  room  to 
room,  and  she  discoursed  with  an  artist's  eye,  a  mechan- 
ic's skill,  and  a  i)ainter's  taste  of  the  hard-wood  finishing, 
the  paintings  on  the  wall,  and  the  ornamental  ceilings. 

As  a  character  sli^  grew  upon  me,  and,  my  stricken 
friend,  I,  too,  suffer  a  personal  loss,  and  shall  always  be  a 
})ersonal  and  sincere  mourner. 

Ts  that  old  gray  blanket-shawl  that  she  loaned  me  on 
the  ^^editerranean  in  existence?  If  so  (and  you  can 
spare  it),  [tlease  hand  it  to  me  in  her  name,  and  I  will 
carry  it  while  I  travel,  ever  cherishing  her  menK)rv, 

Most  sincerely, 

K.  A.'tU'KXELL. 


90 

QuiNCY,  III.,  February  12,  1885. 
My  Dear  Governor  :  — 

I  have  just  opened  the  paper  sent  me,  containing  notice 
of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Smyth,  and  am  much  shocked  and 
saddened  at  the  intelUgence.  It  wouhl  be  useless  for  me 
to  speak  of  the  depth  of  your  affection,  tliough  my  short 
acquaintance  served  to  show  me  tlie  strength  of  your 
mutual  attachment  and  dependence.  I  must,  however, 
mention  one  instance  wliich  seems  more  than  a  coinci- 
dence. Before  leaving  home  this  morning,  and  before  I 
had  the  paper  referred  to,  I  was  playing  with  our  little 
daughter,  now  eleven  months  old,  and  remarked  to  my 
wife  that  I  would  send  one  of  her  recently  taken  photo- 
graphs to  Mrs.  Smyth.  I  cannot  account  for  the  impulse 
which  thus  expressed  itself,  as  nothing  had  occurred  in  a 
long  time  to  bring  either  of  you  forcibly  to  mind.  As 
I  left  the  house  a  few  minutes  later  the  postman  handed 
me  the  paper,  which,  on  being  opened,  contained  the  sad 
news.  I  have  not  since  seen  my  wife,  but  I  know  she 
would  join  me  in  expressions  of  sympathy  for  your  great 
affliction. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

WILLIAM  B.  BULL. 

Treasury  Department,  Washington, 

February  14,  1885. 
My  Di'ir  Old  Frkhd :  — 

Although  we  luxve  been  long  and  far  apart,  my   warm- 
est sym}»athy  goes  out  to  you  in  tliis  your  day  of  ])eroave- 


91 

ment.  I  think  of  the  days  when  we  were  together  long 
ago  as  officers  of  the  agricultural  society,  and  of  later 
times  wlien  I  held  court  in  Manchester,  when  we  were 
much  younger  than  now,  and  of  my  pleasant  meetings 
with  your  wife  and  you  ;  and  I  cannot  think  of  you  with- 
out her,  who  seemed  to  be  so  much  a  part  of  your  life. 
My  memory  of  her  is  of  a  young,  bright,  lovely  woman, 
the  light  and  life  of  the  society  about  her.  I  have  not 
seen  her  enough  since  to  think  of  her  as  advanced  in 
years  with  the  rest  of  us.  There  is  nothing  for  me  to 
say  by  way  of  consolation,  yet  I  know  you  will  be  glad 
of  this  reminder  from  one  who  has  known  and  felt  an 
interest  in  you  both  so  long. 

And  so,  old  friend,  farewell,  and  God  bless  you. 

HEXRY  F.  FREXCH. 

(Assistant  U.  S.  Treasurer.) 


Baltimore,  February  18,  1885. 
3Iii  Dear  Governor :  — 

I  was  ever  so  much  depressed  day  before  yesterday 
upon  receiving,  from  some  kind  friend  in  Manchester, 
newspapers  containing  the  account  of  Mrs.  Smyth's  obse- 
(piies.  I  had  no  knowledge  that  she  had  died.  I  don't 
know  wliat  to  say  to  you.  I  had  such  respect  for  her, 
such  an  idea  of  her  grand  good  health  as  exhibited  in  her 
handsome  personal  appearance,  that  I  thought  and  hoped 
she  would  lonsi:  outlive  both  of  us.     I  am  heartilv   iclad 


92 

that  the  clergyman  who  delivered  the  address  at  her  fu- 
neral knew  her  so  well.  What  he  said  was  well  said,  and 
showed  an  appreciation  of  her  noble  character.  When  I 
think  now  ot  the  many  conversations  we  used  to  have 
about  your  early  life  with  her  as  children,  when  you 
were  })iling  wood  and  she  was  doing  the  domestic  house- 
work, the  early  love  that  sprang  up,  and  the  success  that 
sprang  from  that  nmtual  early  love  and  aifection,  my 
regrets  are  multiplied  that  it  should  not  have  lasted  for- 
ever. Well,  you  have  my  heart-felt  sympathy ;  but  I  am 
glad  she  lived  long  enough  to  make  all  wlio  knew  her 
love  her,  and  to  "  live  with  tliose  we  leave  behind  is  not 
to  die." 

^[rs.  Bond,  who  in  a  very  short  intercourse  recognized 
the  womanly  greatness  and  loveliness  of  her  character, 
sends  sympathy  to  you  in  your  afHiction,  and  you  have 
no  more  sympathizing  friend  than 

Yours  atieetionately, 

HUGH  L.  BOXD. 

(Judge  U.  S.  Circuit  Coui't.) 


Portland,  Me.,  Felu-uary  18,  1885. 
Ml/  Dear  Friend  :  — 

It  is  a  terrible  experience  through  which  you  are  pass- 
ing these  days,  and  I  feel  so  earnestly  for  you  that  I  must 
take  up  my  pen  to   express  my   heart-felt  sym[»athy  for 


93 

you.  I  can  lionestly  say  I  have  never  known  a  woman 
more  finely  constituted  by  God  to  adorn  every  station 
through  which  she  has  moved  than  was  your  lovely  wife. 
She  was  the  soul  of  natural  dignity,  facility,  and  grace. 
In  temperament,  in  instincts,  in  intuitive  discernments 
of  occasions  and  persons,  in  power  to  adapt  herself  to 
them,  she  was  simply  wonderful.  The  gift  from  the  Lord 
of  such  a  treasure  for  so  intimate  living  and  for  so  many 
years,  lays  you  forever  under  obligation  to  your  Heavenly 
Father.  You  prized  her  living  ;  but  Oh,  how  must  not 
each  charm  of  i)erson  and  character  seem  glorified  by 
death !  How  must  not  each  more  marked  event  of  a  life 
together  so  full  of  incident  be  touched  with  special  ten- 
derness as  you  review  it  now  ! 

Fortunate,  thrice  fortunate,  have  you  been.  So  much 
the  more,  does  it  seem  to  me,  do  you  recjuire  the  living 
remembrances  of  those  who  more  or  less  openly  congrat- 
ulated you  in  the  days  of  3'our  prosperity.  Truly  you 
have  mine  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  May  you  know 
tlie  comforts  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  all  their  fullness, 
and  then  it  will  soon  appear  a  short  journey  from  "  the 
singing  seats  "  in  the  little  church  in  Candia  to  the  higher 
seats  together  in  heaven. 

Very  cordially  yours, 

WILLIAM  H.  FENi^. 

(Pastor  High-street  Churcli,  Portland,  Me.) 


94 

CoxsTANTixoPLE,  February  18,  1885. 
Honorable  Governor  Frederick  Smyth  :  — 

My  Dear  and  3Iost  Honored  Friend :  —  Your  letter  of 
the  21st  of  January  last  has  caused  to  me  a  very  great 
afHiction,  and  I  am  indeed  very  sorry  to  learn  the  great 
and  irreparable  bereavement  which  you  have  sustained 
in  the  [ireniature  and  very  sad  death  of  your  noble  and 
most  beloved  companion,  your  very  kind  and  highly 
accomplished  wife.  Oh,  how  much  I  sympathize  with  you, 
my  dear  Governor  Smyth,  and  how  profoundly  mv  heart 
is  touched  with  grief  by  this  most  sorrowful  disaster ! 
You  cannot  imagine,  nor  do  I  feel  myself  able  to  express, 
my  great  dolefulness.  I  feel  quite  unfortunate  for  this 
great  loss,  and  I  assure  you  that  the  picture  of  3'our 
beloved  wife  has  so  impressively  been  printed  in  my 
memorv  that  it  will  never  l)e  effaced,  nor  will  it  ever  be 
possible  for  me  to  forget  her  kindness  and  amial)leness, 
and  the  courtesy  which  she  showed  to  me  when  I  had 
the  happiness  and  great  pleasure  to  know  her.  But  she 
is  gone  forever  to  a  better  world.  I  pray  you,  my  most 
honored  friend,  to  bear  this  great  trial  with  all  that  Chris- 
tian abnegation  and  faith  which  are  ever  the  sole  consola- 
tion and  support  in  this  earthly  and  temporary  life,  and 
which,  together  with  the  high  doctrines  of  our  most  holy 
and  divine  religion,  strengthen  and  [»repare  us  for  the 
eternal  life,  the  life  of  truthfulness,  purity,  and  virtue. 

Hoping  to  have  the  honor  to  hear  from  you,  I  remain, 
dear  Governor  Smyth,  D.  X.  DP:METRIADES. 

(Interpreter  for  United  States  Consul-General.) 


95 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  February  25,  1885. 
J/y  Dtar  Mr.  Smyth :  — 

We  ^^•c*re  greatly  grieved  when  tidings  of  your  dear 
and  honored  wife's  death  came  to  us,  I  had  it  in  my 
heart  to  write  you  at  once,  and  my  wife  did  sit  down  and 
write  you  a  letter  that  seems  not  to  have  reached  you. 
Her  memory  is  altogether  sweet  and  precious  to  us.  I 
associate  her  with  our  life  at  the  AV^hite  Mountains  ;  we 
recall  the  i)lea8ant  visit  at  your  house;  we  recall  several 
meetings  here  in  Brooklyn.  She  was  one  whom  once 
having  met  one  does  not  easily  forget. 

There  was  about  her  an  atmosphere  of  cheer,  of  bright- 
ness, and  of  sympathetic  kindness,  which  nnide  any  day 
memorable  in  which  one  may  have  met  her.  You  do 
well  to  mourn  her,  yet  you  mourn  not  as  those  who  have 
no  hope.  If  any  one  ever  ascended  and  lives  in  the  roy- 
alty of  love  above,  she  has.  Be  sure  that  her  love  and 
tender  sympathy  for  you  are  cpiickened  in  heaven.  Our 
best  (|ualities  surely  do  not  wither  or  wilt  in  heaven,  and 
above  all  love  does  not  decline  or  shrink.  May  the  Com- 
forter sustain  you  and  qualify  you  to  join  her.  I  am 
Your  cordial  friend, 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 


Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  February  25,  1885. 
3Li   Vcn/  iJcor  Friend :  — 

Words  are  a  very  cold  expression  of  the  great  sorrow 
all  must  feel  who  were  so  l)lessed  and  honored  as  to  have 


96 

been  known  and  loved  by  sucli  a  saint  as  Mrs.  Smyth 
always  seemed  to  me,  and  to  yon,  my  dear  friend,  they 
must  seem  cold  indeed.  Xone  bnt  the  Blessed  One  can 
speak  to  your  heart  and  bring  any  light  to  your  desolate 
home ;  but  He  has  promised  to  be  with  His  children  in 
every  sorrow.  He,  our  blessed  God  and  Saviour,  has 
taken  your  heart's  delight  from  you  for  a  short  time  for 
some  wise  purpose,  which,  although  we  eaimot  know 
wliy  at  present,  we  shall  surely  know  hereafter.  This 
gracious  Comforter  will  be  with  you,  guiding  you  with 
loving  hand  through  the  remaining  days  of  your  eartlily 
}>ilgrimage,  until  in  His  own  good  time  he  will  call  you 
up  yonder,  wlien  she,  tlie  wife  of  your  youth,  the  sweet 
companion  and  counselor  of  your  riper  years,  will  be  the 
tirst,  I  tirmly  believe,  to  welcome  you  to  that  l)right 
home,  where  sin  and  sorrow,  pains  and  partings  are 
unknown.  Our  hearts  have  been  with  you  daily,  and 
most  deeply  do  we  mourn  with  you  for  one  of  the  truest 
friends  and  sweetest  comitanions  (iod  ever  gave.  God 
l)e  with  you,  speaking  words  of  comfort  and  consolation 
to  your  sore  heart,  and  in  your  loneliness  may  He  give 
you  to  feel  His  presence,  together  with  an  abiding  reality 
of  her  jiresence  constantly  l)ending  over  you  ;  for  are  not 
the  spirits  of  the  just  ministering  spirits,  sent  to  minister 
to  tliose  who  are  the  licirs,  and  who  are  yet  to  be  tlie 
full  jtossessors  of  that  salvation  ()ur  Saviour  ])rought  to 
man  ?  and  will  not  she,  of  all  the  heavenly  host,  be  the 
ministeriug  si)irit  who  shall  ever  be  near  you  ':' 


97 

My  dear  friend,  I  wisli  I  could  be  any  comfort  to  you ; 
but  remember  you  will  be  ever  cordially  remembered 
by  one  who  so  dearly  loved  her  who  is  not  lost  but  gone 
before,  and  always. 

Most  truly  and  affectionatelv,  your  friend, 

E.  W.  BEECHER. 

(Mrs.  Henry  Ward  Beecher.) 


Concord,  X.  H.,  Jan.  19,  1885. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

My  Dear  Governor : — In  this  hour  of  your  deep  atfliction 
[terniit  me  to  say,  that  although  my  acquaintance  with 
Mrs.  Smyth  was  an  extended  and  happy  one,  yet  her 
death  brings  especially  to  my  mind  many  pleasant  and 
never-to-be-forgotten  incidents  of  our  delightful  trip  ta 
Mexico  in  1881.  I  can  only  touch  upon  some  of  its  most 
prominent  features,  leaving  other  reminiscences  to  be 
preserved,  as  these  will  surely  be,  in  the  storehouse  of 
your  own  grateful  recollections,  confident  that  as  now,  so 
hereafter,  "  it  will  .give  you  pleasure  to  have  remembered 
these  things.'' 

Mrs.  Smyth,  in  company  with  yourself,  had,  prior  to 
going  to  Mexico,  traveled  extensively  in  tlie  United  States, 
and  had  also  made  several  visits  to  the  most  interesting 
parts  of  the  Old  "World  ;  yet  how  frequently  she  remarked, 
while  in  the  land  of  the  ancient  Aztecs,  that  it  was  the 


98 

most  delightful  journey  she  had  ever  taken.  While  the 
hearts  of  all  are  tilled  with  emotions  of  the  keenest  sor- 
row that  God  in  His  wisdom  should  terminate  so  unex- 
pectedly the  earthly  life  of  Mrs.  Smyth,  so  overliowing 
with  unmeasured  activity  and  usefulness,  yet  we  will  all 
rejoice  with  a  chastened  gratitude  that  she  lived  to  take 
the  Mexican  excursion,  next  to  the  last  extended  one  of 
her  life. 

As  you  well  remember,  after  a  delightful  visit  at  New 
Orleans,  where  we  mingled  in  the  festivities  of  the  carni- 
val season,  and  witnessed  those  gorgeous  and  almost 
bewildering  night  pageants,  that  you  pronounced  far 
more  wonderful  than  anything  you  had  seen  on  similar 
occasions  in  Rome,  we  started  southward  for  that  land  of 
story  and  romance,  where  the  leathery  foliage  of  the  palm 
outlines  itself  against  a  tropical  sky,  and  where  sunmier 
is  perpetual.  In  departing  we  regretted  to  separate  from 
ex-Gov.  Benjamin  F.  Prescott,  who  had  been  with  us 
in  our  enjoyments  in  the  Crescent  City.  It  was  a  lovely 
trip  of  eighty  miles  by  rail,  past  fresh,  sweet  lields  of 
newly  planted  sugar-cane,  and  skirting  far-extending 
savannas  clothed  in  the  deepest  green. of  a  semi-tropical 
spring,  to  Morgan  City,  where  lay  at  anchor  the  steamer 
"  Whitney,''  that  was  to  bear  us  over  the  Mexican  sea  to 
the  quaint  city  of  Vera  Cruz.  Our  voyage  down  the 
Atchatalaya  was  so  quiet  and  restful  that  our  ship  seemed 
like  a  great  white  bird  with  wings  outstretched  to  catch 
the  perfumed  breezes  already  coming  in  from  the  tropic 


99 

lands.  Mrs.  Smyth  greatly  enjoyed  our  first  sunset  on 
the  (|uiet  deep.  The  clear  atmosphere  of  the  early  even- 
ing tinged  with  a  purple  shade,  the  hrief  twilight  that 
followed  the  sinking  sun,  and  then  the  glistening  stars 
above,  —  all  seemed  to  shed  their  tender  influence  over 
her  susceptible  nature,  and  at  length  she  exclaimed  :  "  It 
is  so  beautiful !  —  everything  seems  to  promise  a  happy 
journey  for  us  all." 

Galveston  was  the  only  port  our  steamer  made  during 
the  trip.  Among  those  who  came  on  board  tliere,  were 
Major-General  Edward  0.  C.  Ord,  and  his  son,  James  T. 
Ord.  The  former  was  known  to  you,  Governor,  person- 
ally, while  by  high  re})utation  we  all  knew  the  gallant 
old  soldier  as  a  graduate  from  West  Point,  as  one  of  the 
bravest  Union  ofticers  in  the  civil  war,  and  as  late  com- 
man<ler  of  the  department  of  Texas.  He  was  father-in- 
law  of  General  Geronimo  Trevino,  the  Mexican  cabinet 
minister  of  war  and  marine,  and  after  being  crowned 
with  years  and  military  renown,  was  placed  on  the  retired 
list  of  the  United  States  army.  He  was  as  modest  and 
unaffected  in  his  deportment  as  a  child,  and  extremely 
lovable  for  all  those  noble  qualities  that  united  to  make 
him  a  true  friend  and  a  perfect  gentleman.  You  will 
recall,  Governor,  when  you  presented  yourself  to  him, 
how  kind  and  cordial  were  his  thanks  to  you  for  renewing 
the  accpiaintance.  When  you  mentioned  to  him  the  fact 
of  Mrs.  Smyth's  being  with  you,  he  at  once  asked  to  be 
presented  to  her,  and   upon   being   introduced   warmly 


100 

shook  her  hand  and  remarked,  "Wliat  a  charming  party 
we  have  for  Mexico !  "  From  that  moment  nntil  we  left 
the  city  of  Mexico  for  Havana,  the  close  triendship  of 
General  Ord  for  yourself  and  Mrs.  Smyth,  together  with 
the  many  kind  courtesies  extended  by  himself  and  son, 
must  have  been  a  constant  and  unalloyed  pleasure  and 
satisfaction.  The  four  days  of  the  voyage  from  Texas  to 
Vera  Cruz  were  like  sweet  passages  in  happy  dreams. 
From  the  moment  the  low  sandy  shores  of  the  Lone  Star 
State  faded  from  view,  till  the  morning  when  the  gray 
walls,  towers,  and  domes  of  La  Villa  Rica  de  la  Vera 
Cruz  —  "  the  rich  city  of  the  true  cross  "  —  rose  to  our 
vision,. our  journey  ovev  the  blue  deep  was  a  succession  of 
unclouded  days,  with  the  heat  tempered  l)y  the  trade 
winds,  and  clear  still  nights  with  lambent  stars  and  planets 
reliected  in  the  clear  waters  of  the  gulf.  After  leaving 
Galveston  not  a  vessel  crossed  our  track ;  but  the  ship's 
agreeable  company  kei)t  every  one  from  experiencing  any 
feeling  of  loneliness,  anil  it  will  not  be  invidious  to  state 
that  no  one  seemed  so  ready  to  plan  and  do  for  the  hap- 
piness of  others  as  Mrs.  Smyth. 

A  most  pleasing  incident  occurred  near  the  end  of  our 
voyage.  In  many  countries  reached  by  Avater  prominent 
objects  serve  as  beacons  to  attract  the  attention  of  return- 
ing pilgrims  anxious  to  see  again  their  native  land,  or  of 
travelers  eager  to  obtain  their  lirst  view  of  strange  shores. 
Mexico  has  such  a  signal  in  Orizaba,  which,  according  to 
Humboldt,  is  the  highest  elevation  in  the  world  that  rises 


101 

abruptly,  with  no  foot-hills,  from  the  plain.  Mrs.  Smyth 
had  read  of  this  wonderful  mountain,  and  of  the  lasting 
impression  the  first  view  of  it  produced  centuries  ago 
upon  Cortes,  and  when  far  out  from  Vera  Cruz  she  be- 
came deeply  interested  in  it.  She  had  hoped  to  see  it 
first  by  daylight,  and  her  wisli  was  gratified.  On  the  last 
evening  of  the  voyage  Captain  Henry  informed  her  that 
the  ship  was  gradually  nearing  the  coast.  The  gray 
dawn  of  the  next  morning  had  not  fairly  broken  before 
she  had  arisen  and  begun  her  watch.  The  captain  kindly 
gave  her  the  points  of  compass,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
she,  the  first  to  make  out  the  signal,  exclaimed  with  all 
the  enthusiasm  of  a  child,  "That  is  Orizaba,  and  there 
is  Mexico  I  "  In  a  short  time  all  the  passengers  had 
gathered  on  deck  to  witness  the  sublime  spectacle. 
Mist  concealed  the  shore  and  the  adjacent  country,  but 
in  the  far  distance,  many  hundred  feet  al)ove  the  sea  and 
the  clouds,  with  a  background  of  violet-colored  sky, 
stood  Orizal)a,  majestic  and  impressive,  silent  and  pas- 
sioidess,  and  with  its  summit  enveloped  in  the  purest  of 
eternal  snow,  that  had  already  begun  to  be  glorified  and 
transfigured  with  the  ruddy  light  of  the  newly  risen  sun. 
No  one  who  witnessed  that  enchanting  transformation 
scene  can  ever  efiace  it  from  the  memory.  Had  anything 
prevented  Mrs.  Smyth  from  completing  the  trip,  she 
would  reverently  have  regarded  the  sight  of  that  moun- 
tain as  an  ample  recompense  for  the  journey. 

It  was  at  the  embarking  at   Vera   Cruz  that   General 


102 

Ord  demonstrated  in  a  marked,  practical  manner,  his 
kind  regard  for  Mrs.  Smyth  and  yourself.  In  the  early 
morning  a  boat  belonging  to  the  Mexican  revenue  ser- 
vice came  along  side  the  "  Whitney"  as  she  lay  at 
anchor  in  the  roadstead.  It  brought  a  reception  com- 
mittee representing  the  Mexican  government  and  the 
city  of  Vera  Cruz,  and  included  Colonel  Pabla  Ortega  of 
General  Tre vino's  staff,  Hon.  Manuel  Fernandez,  M.  D., 
supervisor  of  customs.  Colonel  Jose  Cortes  of  the  eigh- 
teenth battalion  of  infantry,  and  others  who  had  come  to 
extend  a  welcome  to  General  Ord.  After  the  exchano^e 
of  international  courtesies.  General  Ord  and  son  were 
invited  to  go  ashore  in  the  government  vessel.  This  dis- 
tinguished soldier,  however,  made  no  preparations  to 
land  until  Mrs.  Smyth  and  yourself  had  not  only  been 
invited  but  urged  to  accompany  him,  and  when,  after 
some  misgivings  on  the  score  of  possible  intrusion  you 
accepted  his  proffered  favor,  you  at  once  became,  as 
friends  of  General  Ord,  guests  of  the  republic  of  Mexico. 
Of  the  magnificent  banquet  tendered  to  General  Ord  at 
the  princely  residence  of  Hon.  Francisco  de  Landero,  the 
Mexican  minister  of  finance,  I  am  sure,  Governor,  that 
you  cherish  pleasant  recollections,  for  on  that  occasion 
Mrs.  Smyth  was  the  only  lady  invited ,  and  it  is  safe  to 
say  that,  in  the  annals  of  that  grand  historic  city,  the 
place  from  which  Cortes  and  his  isoldiers  started  out  on 
his  remarkable  military  expedition,  no  American  woman 
had  ever  been   so  highly  honored.     Among  those  pres- 


103 

ent,  in  addition  to  the  gentlemen  who  tendered  the 
welcome  to  General  Ord,  were  General  Eulalio  Vela, 
comandante  militar  de  la  plaza,  Colonel  R.  Martinez, 
of  the  twenty-fifth  battalion.  Colonel  J.  M.  Rose  of  the 
eighteenth  battalion,  and  Colonel  A.  Maranon,  —  all  from 
the  garrison  at  Vera  Cruz ;  Hon.  Sebastian  A.  Barcena, 
collector  of  the  port;  Manuel  Rojas,  Guillemo  A.  Esteva, 
Gustavo  A.  Esteva,  and  the  mayor  of  the  city.  The  ban- 
quet, in  the  necessary  absence  of  Minister  Landero  at 
the  capital,  was  in  charge  of  his  brother,  Hon.  Pedro 
de  Landero,  M.  D.,  and  was  carried  out  with  the  ele- 
gance and  profuse  display  that  alwa^'s  characterize  the 
liospitality  of  wealthy  and  refined  Mexican  gentlemen. 
There  was  an  elaborate  and  expensive  menu,  many  of 
whose  dainty  dishes  were  unknown  to  the  American 
visitors,  with  sparkling  and  brilliant  addresses  in  both 
Spanish  and  English.  Your  own  remarks,  in  answer 
to  a  sentiment  to  the  state  of  which  you  had  been  twice 
elected  chief  magistrate,  were  translated  into  Spanish  by 
General  Ord,  and  received  with  merited  applause.  The 
response,  by  the  nephew  of  Minister  Landero,  was  most 
fittingly  made,  and  in  closing  he  turned  to  "  Signora 
Smyth  "  and  complimented  her  in  glowing  words,  ex- 
pressing the  hope  that  she  would  be  pleased  with  Mexico 
and  favored  with  a  most  pleasant  journey,  and  that  all 
who  should  have  the  privilege  of  meeting  her  would  ex- 
tend the  same  large  measure  of  respect  and  love  which 
he  wished  her  to  accept  from  the  peo[»le  of  Vera  Cruz. 


104 

In  return,  Mrs.  Smyth  could  only  Ijow  her  grateful 
acknowledgments.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the 
special  train,  in  charge  of  Hon.  E.  W.  Jackson,  general 
manager,  having  on  board  the  military  guard  of  honor 
that  had  been  in  waiting  for  General  Ord  and  his  friends, 
rolled  out  of  the  Vera  Cruz  station,  and  with  loving 
memories  of  music  and  softl}-  falling  waters,  of  gardens 
and  groves  of  orange  and  palm,  the  Americans  resumed 
their  journey  towards  the  city  of  Mexico. 

ISTo  one  could  possibly  have  enjoyed  that  part  of  the 
journey  more  than  Mrs.  Smyth.  For  the  first  few  miles 
the  railway  route  is  over  the  tierra  caliente,  with  its  rank 
and  almost  overpowering  tropical  growth,  and  afterwards 
it  begins  to  climb  the  eastern  Cordilleras,  where  we  ob- 
tained our  first  near  view  of  mountain  scenery,  which  in 
grandeur  and  sublimity  surpasses  anything  of  the  kind  in 
America.  Coftee  plantations  shaded  with  the  generous 
foliage  of  the  banana,  flowering  forests  Avith  their  bril- 
liant orchids  almost  dazzling  the  eye,  were  succeeded  by 
sharp  gradients,  and  later,  a  temperature  fast  falling  to 
the  ticrra-tehiplada  point. 

Among  the  most  suritrising  and  imjiressive  scenes  on 
the  line  are  the  weird  and  sublime  harmncas  of  Metlac 
and  the  Infiernillo,  and  the  idyllic  valley  of  Maltrata 
among  the  mountains ;  and,  before  reaching  the  latter, 
we  look  down  upon  its  village  from  the  dizzy  height  of 
three  thousand  feet.  At  Orizaba,  lion.  Thomas  Branift", 
the  managing  director  of  the  English  railway,  who  had 


105 

sent  his  elegant  and  official  private  car  to  Vera  Cruz  on 
a  special  train,  joined  the  party.  As  night  approached, 
Mrs,  Smyth  began  to  experience  some  fatigue,  whicli 
General  Ord  and  Mr,  Braniff  being  (piick  to  observe,  at 
once  gave  her  the  exclusive  use  of  the  director's  carriaire, 
—  Mr.  Branitf  pleasantly  remarking  that  it  was  the  same 
whose  service  he  tendered  to  Gen.  Grant  on  his  first  visit 
to  Mexico,  it  being  the  highest  compliment  in  the  power 
of  the  railway  company  to  bestow.  A  fine  supper  was  in 
waiting  at  Esperanza,  where  a  short  rest  was  taken. 

Toward  midnight  a  cold  wind  swept  down  the  sides 
of  the  mountains,  and  Xew  England  winter  clothing 
was  required  to  render  one  comfortable.  The  military 
officers  from  the  ca})ital  were  unprepared  for  so  great  a 
change  in  the  temperature,  and  Mrs.  Smyth,  observing 
that  they  were  not  provided  with  overcoats,  immediately 
opened  her  luggage,  and,  taking  out  her  extra  seal  coat, 
placed  it  on  Colonel  Ortega's  shoulders,  and  handed  her 
wraps  to  the  other  officers,  none  of  whom  could  find 
words  sufficient  fully  to  express  their  gratitude  for  her 
kindness.  At  Saltepec  the  railway  reaches  an  altitude  of 
eight  thousand  two  hundred  and  twenty-four  feet  above 
the  sea.  Soon  we  had  our  first  view  of  the  magnificent 
southern  cross,  that  wonderful  clock-work  of  the  heavens, 
climbing  the  blue  vault  of  the  distant  sky.  Early  in  the 
morning  we  enjoyed  a  splendid  view  of  the  volcanoes 
Orizaba,  Txtaccihuatl  (the  white  woman),  and  Popocata- 
petl    (the  smoking  mountain),  with    their  serene    peaks 


106 

mantled  with  perennial  white,  while  scarcely  a  mile  away 
were  the  pyramids  of  San  Juan  Teotihuacan,  "  the  habi- 
tations of  the  gods."  At  length  the  train  arrived  at 
Buena  Vista  station,  music  burst  forth  from  a  military 
band,  people  crowded  about  the  cars  to  get  a  glimpse  of 
the  American  visitors,  and  strange  eights  and  scenes 
were  about  us,  for  we  had  reached  the  city  of  Mexico. 

Grateful  memories  of  happy  days.  Governor,  that  were 
passed  in  the  old  capital  of  the  Aztecs,  must  be  written 
in  your  heart  as  the}'  certainly  were  in  that  of  Mrs.  Smyth, 
whose  enjoyment  of  them  was  so  great,  whose  genial  and 
loving  presence,  like  a  constant  benediction,  brightened 
every  hour,  and  whose  winning  and  sympathetic  ways 
gained  her  a  multitude  of  friends  in  that  distant  land. 
AVhen  the  guest  of  distinguished  officials,  as  she  frequently 
was,  she  charmed  all,  no  less  by  her  striking  figure  and 
refined  personal  attractions,  than  by  the  marked  simplicity 
in  all  her  tastes  and  habits.  During  her  morning  walks, 
it  was  a  frecpient  occurrence  for  poor  Mexican  children  to 
bow  graciously  to  the  American  lady  whose  radiant  face 
seemed  a  reflection  of  a  loving  heart. 

Although  our  stay  in  that  city  was  not  a  long  one,  yet 
Mrs.  Smyth  was  so  eager  and  earnest  to  visit,  so  far  as 
possible,  its  many  entertaining  scenes  and  localities,  that 
but  little  of  interest  escaped  her.  She  went  out  to  the 
village  of  Guadalupe,  through  which  we  had  passed  by 
train,  where  the  treaty  of  peace  was  signed  after  the  war 
between  Mexico  and  the  United  States,  and   saw  its  his- 


107 

toric  and  legendary  church,  its  healing  spring,  and  its 
hillside  chapel ;  glided  down  the  canal  La  Vega,  and 
went  through  the  "  Floating  Gardens,"  which  supply  the 
flower  and  vegetable  markets  of  Mexico,  the  former  the 
most  diversified  and  wonderful  in  the  world  ;  passed  her 
evenings  in  the  Zocola,  under  the  shadows  of  the  grand 
old  cathedral,  listening  to  the  fine  music  of  the  military 
band,  or  in  the  more  quiet  scenes  of  El  Gran  Tivoli  de 
San  Cosme ;  spent  an  afternoon  at  the  castle  Chapulte- 
pec,  where  Maximilian  and  Carlotta  made  their  home  for 
a  time,  but  which  is  now  the  Ohsermtorio  Kaeio/ud,  and 
stood  under  el  arhol  de  la  noche  iriste,  —  "  the  tree  of  the 
sorrowful  night,"  —  where  so  brave  a  man  as  Cortez  sat 
down  upon  a  stone  and  wept  for  his  lost  soldiers.  The 
cemeteries  of  Mexico  seemed  to  have  a  peculiar  fascination 
for  Mrs.  Smyth.  Their  quiet  seclusion,  their  profuseness 
of  tropical  flowers  and  shrubbery,  their  numberless  touch- 
ing mementos  of  departed  dear  ones,  the  beauty  and  ele- 
gance of  many  of  their  memorials,  and  the  tender  and 
loving  associations  that  Mrs.  Smyth  realized  must  linger 
about  them,  made  a  deep  impression  upon  her.  The 
American  and  English  inclosures,  the  Panteon  Frances, 
the  Dolores,  a  favorite  burial-place  of  the  aristocracy,  and 
the  San  Fernando  cemetery  near  the  Alameda,  seemed  to 
possess  the  greatest  interest  for  her.  In  the  latter  is  the 
tomb  of  Juarez,  the  father  of  Mexican  liberty,  in  the 
shape  of  a  magnificent  Grecian  temple,  with  marble  fig- 
ures, all  the  work  of  Islas,  a  distinguished  native  sculptor; 


108 

also  the  graves  of  Commonfort,  Zaragoza,  and  Guerrero, 
three  of  the  republic's  great  heroes,  and  the  sad  resting- 
place  of  Miramon,  an  imperial  general  who  was  shot  at 
the  side  of  Maximilian  at  Queretaro.  Of  the  side  trips 
which  you  took,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Smj^th,  perhaps 
the  most  notable  was  that  to  beautiful  Puebla  de  los  An- 
geles, the  "  City  of  the  Angels,"  whose  cathedral  and 
churches  are  second  only  to  those  of  the  capital,  and 
which  possesses  great  historic  interest  from  its  being  the 
scene  of  the  decisive  victory  won  by  the  Liberal  army 
under  General  Zaragoza  over  the  French,  May  5,  1862. 
Your  short  excursion  from  Puebla  out  to  the  pyramid  of 
Cholula,  which  in  breadth  of  base  and  some  other  feat- 
ures is  the  most  remarkable  yet  discovered  in  the  world, 
proved  one  of  the  most  entertaining  which  you  took  in 
Mexico.  It  was  at  Puebla  where  Mr.  Blumenkron,  an 
American  by  birth  and  formerly  United  States  consul  in 
that  city,  showed  you  numerous  kind  attentions. 

I  recall  many  persons  in  the  city  of  Mexico  who  ex- 
tended almost  countless  courtesies  to  Mrs.  Smyth  as  well 
as  to  yourself,  and  most  especially  should  be  mentioned 
General  Ord,  General  and  ^Mrs.  Trevino,  the  latter  be- 
fore marriage  Miss  Bertie  Ord,  whose  recent  death  car- 
ried sorrow  to  many  hearts,  and  Manager  Director  Braniff 
and  General  Manager  Jackson  of  the  Vera  Cruz  railway. 
To  these  should  be  added  Rev.  H.  Chauncey  Riley,  D.  D., 
bishop  of  the  valley  of  Mexico,  Rev.  J.  W.  Butler,  D.  D., 
General  John  B.   Frisbie,  Hon.   P.   H.    Morgan,  United 


109 

States  minister,  General  D.  H.  Strother,  United  States 
consul,  and  J.  Mastella  Clarke,  the  accomplished  editor 
and  publisher  of  the  "  Two  Tiepublics,"  whose  kind  offices 
were  most  fully  appreciated.  These  and  many  others 
in  that  city  must  have  been  deeply  pained  at  the  intelli- 
gence of  Mrs.  Smyth's  death. 

I  will  close  this  already  long  letter.  Governor,  by  re- 
calling two  occurrences  on  the  Sunday  preceding  the 
date  of  your  departure  for  Havana.  In  the  afternoon,  as 
you  will  at  once  recall,  we  strolled  from  our  hotel,  the 
celebrated  Iturbide,  formerly  the  palace  of  the  emperor 
of  that  name,  down  San  Francisco  street.  The  sun  was 
nearing  the  horizon,  and  its  golden  light  resting,  as  if  in 
loving  farewell,  upon  the  snow-clad  summits  of  Popocat- 
apetl  and  Ixtaccihuatl ;  the  sweet  scent  of  orange  blos- 
soms was  wafted  on  the  ambient  air,  and  away  out  on 
the  Calzada,  the  magnificent  boulevard  built  under  the 
personal  direction  of  "  Poor  Carlotta,"  was  a  long  line  of 
carriages  containing  the  wealth  and  fashion  of  the  city, 
on  their  evening  drive  to  Chapultepec.  By  chance  we 
ol)served  the  lovely  entrance  to  the  Episcopal  cathedral, 
the  passage  to  which  was  almost  hedged  in  by  beds  of 
luxuriant  llowers,  while  on  the  right  was  an  old  convent 
wall,  which  to  the  height  of  more  tlian  thirty  feet  was 
nearly  hidden  from  view  by  thick  masses  of  heliotrope 
and  other  clinging  vines.  Entering,  we  found  ourselves 
in  what  was  formerly  one  of  the  most  costly  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  churches  of  the  city.     It  was  one  of  those  which 


110 

had  been  conliscated  by  the  Liberal  government  and  pur- 
chased by  the  Episcopalians,  mainly  through  the  efforts 
and  generosity  of  Bishop  Riley,  Although  the  original 
furnishings  and  portions  of  the  ornamentation  had  been 
removed,  yet  its  grand  and  impressive  architecture  re- 
mained. We  found  no  one  present  but  the  sacristan, 
who  kindly  welcomed  us.  After  going  over  the  building, 
Mrs.  Smyth,  with  marked  seriousness,  suggested  that  we 
should  hold  a  service,  and  her  wish  was  gratified  as  best 
we  could.  From  the  Uhro  de  oracion  we  read  the  Lord's 
Prayer  and  the  apostle's  creed,  and  then  Mrs.  Smyth, 
seating'  herself  at  the  organ,  played  and  sang,  accom- 
panied by  yourself,  that  beautiful  and  favorite  hymn  of 
hers,  which  was  so  recently  rendered  at  her  funeral, 
Vjeginning,  — 

"  Softly  now  the  light  of  day 
Fades  upon  my  sight  away." 

As  the  notes  of  her  sweet  voice  ascended  into  the  dim 
vault  above,  listening  l)irds  in  tlie  cathedral  roof  caught 
the  music  of  the  hymn,  and  poured  out  their  joyful  re- 
sponse. As  we  walked  slowly  homeward,  our  own  sub- 
dued hearts  revealed  to  us  that  we  had  tarried  where 
everything  must  have  been  glorified  by  the  Master's 
presence. 

In  the  evening  Mrs.  Smyth's  parlor  at  the  hotel  was 
filled  with  kind  friends,  who  assembled  to  bid  her  and 
yourself  good-bye,  and  who  left  a  table  covered  with  fioral 


Ill 

otterings.  One  remarked  that  her  trip  had  heen  so  pleas- 
ant that  she  must  make  a  second  visit,  but  there  was  a 
saddened  expression  on  her  face  wlien  she  answered : 
"  Life  is  uncertain  ;  I  am  afraid  I  shall  never  see  Mexico 
again."  Perhaps  even  then  she  may  have  had  a  pre- 
monition that  she  had  not  many  years  to  live,  while  in 
her  heart  may  have  been  the  words  :  — 

"  I  hear  a  voice  you  cannot  hear, 
Which  says,  I  must  not  stay, 
I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see, 
Which  beckons  me  away." 

In  conclusion,  permit  me  to  make  mention  of  General 
Ord's  sad  death  from  yellow  fever  at  Havana,  while  on 
his  way  back  to  the  United  States.  Had  he  lived,  he 
would  have  written  much  better  than  I  have  done  con- 
cerning Mrs.  Smyth's  visit  to  Mexico.  Tendering  you, 
my  dear  Governor,  my  most  heartfelt  sympathy,  I  remain. 
Ever  sincerely,  your  friend, 

J.  E.  PECKER. 


Washington,  February  26,  1885. 
My  Dear  Pi'iend:  — 

I  have  not  ventured  hitherto  to  intrude  upon  your 
great  grief,  but  I  am  sure  you  will  allow  me  to  tender 
my  sincei-est  sympathy  with  you.  I  know  your  loss 
must  seem  irreparable.     I  was  permitted  as  your  guest 


112 

to  see  how  completely  your  own  life  and  the  life  of  Mrs. 
Smyth  were  merged  as  one,  and  I  know  your  affliction 
is  immeasurable.  I  pray  that  God  will  give  you  strength 
to  bear  it,  and  that  your  own  useful  life,  even  if  its  chief 
joy  be  taken  out  of  it,  will  long  be  spared  to  your  friends 
and  to  your  state.         Most  sincerely  yours, 

JAMES  G.  BLAIXE. 


February,  1885. 
Ex-Gov.  Smyth, — 

Dear  Sir:  —  That  we  sympathize  with  you  in  your 
great  sorrow  I  need  not  assure  you.  It  is  our  sorrow, 
in  a  far  less  degree.  Our  feelings  are  so  deeply  moved 
that  it  is  dilficult,  almost  impossible,  to  tell  you  the  things 
Mrs.  Smyth  and  I  used  to  talk  about  in  our  drives,  as 
you  wished  me  to  do.  Every  day  I  think  of  her  words 
as  well  as  of  her  doings.  One  day  riding  on  the  Mam- 
moth road,  as  we  passed  the  place  where  the  lovely  child 
of  Mr.  Fogg  used  to  greet  you,  she  said  you  were  (juite 
interested  in  him,  and  took  it  sorely  to  heart  when  he 
was  taken  so  suddenly  from  the  loving  arms  of  his  par- 
ents. She  said :  "  How  hard  it  is  to  understand  I  how  in- 
comprehensible it  all  is  !  "     I  (juoted  Watts  :  — 

"  Deep  in  unfathomable  mines 
Of  never-failing  skill, 
He  treasures  up  his  bright  designs," 

She  tinished  the  quotation  with  — 

''  And  works  his  sovereign  will." 


113 

"  If  one  is  rationally  submissive  they  may  see ;  it"  they 
do  not  here,  they  will  by  and  by." 

"  Then,"  I  said,  "  you  think  there  is  comfort  in  sub- 
mitting ?  "     She  bowed  her  head. 

Juliette  would  stop  now  and  then.  Mrs.  Smyth  said, 
"When  Frederick  and  I  are  riding,  he  stops  often  to 
look  in  among  the  tangled  vines,  drawing  in  sweet  breath 
from  the  pines."  Sometimes  you  would  get  out  of  the 
carriage  and  gather  the  ferns  and  wild  tlowers  that  grew 
in  a  little  way  from  the  roadside.  One  place  in  particular 
Juliette  kept  looking  around  as  though  she  expected 
Mrs.  Smyth  to  get  out.  "  You  may  go  along,  Juliette, 
they  have  spoiled  the  place;"  and  to  me  she  said,  "  We 
can't  expect  all  things  to  remain  perfect  for  us." 

One  day  she  was  entertaining  me  with  an  account  of 
her  visit  with  you  to  the  Nevada  silver  mines,  going  down 
on  an  elevator  not  more  than  four  feet  s(|uare,  four  of 
you  standing  erect,  down,  down,  down,  into  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  —  ver}-  dark  and  very  warm,  growing  more 
so  till  you  came  to  a  large  room,  Avhere  you  breathed  a 
little  treer.  I  asked,  "  How  did  you  feel  ?  What  were  your 
thoughts  ?  "  Over  till  else,  "  I  shall  be  with  him."  It 
was  not,  we  shall  be  together,  but  "  I  shall  be  with 
him;  "  and,  do  you  know,  this  seems  like  a  thrilling  proph- 
ecy to  me  now.  How  many  years  you  had  her  with  you 
till  tiesh  and  strength  failed  !  then  our  Father  who  gave 
took  her  to  himself,  —  a  bright  and  beautiful  soul  freed 
from  the   iniirmities   which   made  it  impossible  for  her 


114 

longer  to  minister.  O  be  glad  with  a  thankful  heart 
that  you  had  her  so  long ! 

A  lad}'  friend  of  mine  was  bereft  of  a  beautiful  daugh- 
ter (some  little  ones  had  gone  before).  An  acquaintance 
said  to  her,  "  She  had  better  been  taken  in  infanc}'." 
"  0,  no,"  said  the  weeping  mother,  "I  am  glad  I  had  her 
so  long;  the  sweet  memories  of  her  happy  childhood  and 
her  joyous  youth,  her  sweet  confidences,  her  truth, — all 
are  to  be  treasured  in  the  coming  years  as  something 
sacred." 

We  cannot  help  mourning  for  our  beloved,  but  we 
must  not  mourn  as  those  without  hope. 

You  said  to  me  :  "  Mrs.  Paige,  I  had  an  angel  in  the 
house  at  ray  side,  and  knew  it  not."  You  did  know  it ; 
but,  like  the  beautiful  Antoine,  in  the  ministry  of  life 
you  did  not  botanize. 

You  cannot  reproach  yourself;  there  is  no  reproach 
for  you.  You  lived  for  her  ;  surrounded  her  with  every 
thing  that  was  beautiful  that  she  loved ;  you  were  good 
to  all  that  belonged  to  her.  Xow  try  to  take  comfort  in 
the  things  which  were  a  comfort  and  a  lifting  up  to  her. 
Think  of  her  as  with  you  now,  directing,  leading,  quiet- 
ing,—  yes,  (juieting  is  the  word. 

I  must  tell  you  of  a  talk  we  had  one  day  as  we  were 
driving  to  the  cemetery.  I  thought  she  rather  avoided 
that  route  and  said,  "  I  am  not  particular;  I  will  go  any 
where  you  like,  of  course.  I  shall  get  the  sweet  air  away 
from  the  dusty  street."    (I  had  asked  her  to  go  that  wa}'.) 


115 

Mrs.  Smyth  seemed  embarrassed,  as  thoiigli  she  ■wanted 
to  say  something  and  hardly  knew  liow  to  say  it  to   me. 

I  said,  "  Faithful  are  the  reproofs  of  a  friend."  "iN'ot 
reproofs,"  she  replied,  "  but  I  am  afraid  you  look  into 
the  grave  too  much."  She  looked  straight  ahead;  I  can 
see  her  now  just  as  she  looked  then.  A  little  silence,  then 
she  spoke  the  words  ,  "  She  is  not  there ;  "  and  looking 
down  at  me  she  said,  "  I  am  relieved."  Then  we  talked 
as  we  had  never  talked  till  then  of  the  blessed  reunion, 
made  possible  through  a  risen  Saviour.  I  was  glad,  I 
am  glad  always  for  the  testimony  given  and  received  that 
day.  I  wan  sick  then,  she  in  perfect  health,  apparently. 
Little  did  we  think  of  the  one  that  should  be  taken  and 
the  other  left,  or  that  in  eight  short  months  after  I  should 
stand  over  the  spot  where  she  lay  entombed  and  breathe 
a  }>rayer  for  the  loved  she  left. 

If  she  had  known  and  been  able  to  tell  you  in  her  dy- 
ing hour  how  strong  her  faith  was  in  a  crucified  Christy 
it  would  doubtless  be  a  comfort  to  you  ;  if  she  had  told 
you  how  to  live,  it  could  only  have  been  in  a  general  way  ; 
it  might  have  l)een  darker.  You  have  the  light  of  her 
glorious  life  to  illumine  your  way.  Rest  in  that  light  ; 
cast  no  shadow  ;  believe  and  trust  in  God  your  Father, 
and  in  Ilis  good  time  an  enduring  mansion  will  receive 
you  both. 

AVith  deep  respect  yours, 

(Mrs.)  II.  C.  PAIGE. 


116 

Consulate  of  the  United  States, 
Malaga,  February  26,  1885. 
M;i  Dear  Governor  :  — 

Last  niglit  we  were  sliocked  on  receiving  two  papers 
from  New  Hampshire  containing  the  sad  news  of  tlie 
death  of  your  dear  good  wife.  It  seems  difficult  to  realize 
that  the  cheery  voice  that  hade  us  such  hearty  welcome 
to  your  New  Hampshire  home  is  stilled  forever.  You 
may  have  friends  of  longer  standing  than  ourselves,  but  I 
feel  I  can  assure  you  that  tio  warmer  sympathies  will 
reach  you,  no  deeper  regrets  for  the  good  woman  who 
made  such  an  impression  in  so  brief  an  ac(|uaintance. 

It  was  one  of  the  pleasures  we  had  promised  ourselves, 
on  our  return  to  Americji,  to  receive  your  hearty  greet- 
ing, and  claim  for  a  brief  moment  the  hospitality  you 
both  so  generously  tendered  us.  In  such  moments  the 
sympathies  of  your  friends  must  help  you  to  bear  your 
grief  Believe  me,  my  dear  governor,  you  have  that  of 
mv  wife  and  self.  Very  sincerely, 

H.  C.  MAKSTEN. 


Woodland  Villas,  Ince  and  Wkmn,  EN(i., 

February  25,  1885. 
31//  Vt)'//  IJotr  Sir  :  — 

It  is  with  the  deepest  and  most  sincere  sympatliy  that 
I  now  write  to  you.  There  are  sorrows  in  which  no  out- 
side spectator  can  enter;  tlierc  are  otlier  sorrows  into 
which  all  must  feel  a  right  to  enter,  and   such,   my   dear 


117 

sir,  is  yours.  No  one  could  liave  met  your  dear  wife, 
even  for  a  short  time,  and  not  feel  a  blank  when  the  news 
came  of  her  death.  Certainly  I  but  saw  her  for  a  few 
days,  but  it  was  then,  when  weak  and  ill,  she  spoke  to 
me  e'en  as  a  mother  would.  She  cheered  me  up,  and 
pointed  to  a  bright  future  even  here  below.  (),  sir, 
those  still  days  traveling  eastward  can  never  ])e  forgotten 
by  me,  and  in  their  })leasant  reminiscences  are  the  days 
spent  in  the  company  of  your  dear  wife  and  self.  Alas 
that  she  no  longer  lives  to  comfort  you,  and  to  shed  rays 
of  sunshine  across  the  paths  of  others  I  Still  He  knows 
best,  the  dear  "  World  Father."  "Shall  not  the  judge 
of  all  the  earth  do  right':'  Sorrow  may  endure  for  the 
night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning.'"  And  it  is  to  the 
God  of  all  comfort  that  I  commend  you,  knowing  that 
He  doeth  all  things  well.  In  Jesus  we  have  such  a  sym- 
pathizing Saviour,  knowing  all  about  us,  remembering 
that  we  are  but  dust.  That  He  may  comfort  you  and 
cheer  you  now  in  your  hour  of  trial,  is  my  most  sincere 
l)rayer  and  heart-felt  wish.  Dear  Mrs.  Smyth  is  better 
otl';  she  now  sees  the  King  in  that  land  afar  off.  Her 
})rayers  are  now  turned  into  praise,  her  cross  exchanged 
for  a  crown;  }tain  has  ceased  forever,  and  in  the  full  joy 
of  peace  is  tlie  rest  with  God  in  heaven. 

With    my  prayers  and  heart-felt  sym]>athv,  in   which 
my  wife  joins,  I  remain,  dear  sir, 

Yours  sincerelv, 

THOMAS  TA^'L(^R. 

(Curute  t)f  Ince.) 


118 

Smyrna,  Turk.,  March  13,  1885. 
My  Dtar  Brother  :  — 

We  cannot  imagine  you  apart  from  the  dear  wife 
whom  the  Lord  has  taken  to  himself,  and  hence  we  think 
of  you  both  as  being  together,  though  not  in  the  body 
jet  in  the  spirit.  You  have  been  so  united  in  God's 
love  and  in  that  of  each  other,  that  not  even  death  can 
:5e[)arate  you.  She  has  only  gone  a  little  before  you  to 
the  heavenly  place,  where  you  will  again  meet  never  to 
}»art.  There  will  be  no  pain,  no  tears,  no  sin,  but  all 
will  l»e  peace  and  joy  and  a  glorious  forever.  I  know 
you  will  mourn  for  the  separation,  but  even  in  this  you 
will  huAe  the  sympathy  of  Him  who  wept  at  the  death 
of  His  friend  and  the  tears  of  his  sisters.  Jesus  sympa- 
thizes with  the  atHicted  as  well  as  with  those  Avho  rejoice. 
When  we  lost  our  only  boy  I  groaned  and  wept,  l>ut  the 
Lord  told  me,  that  unless  I  l)ecome  as  the  little  child  I 
shall  never  enter  his  kingdom.  Thus  the  greatest  sor- 
row lja<l  become  a  comfort,  and  I  looked  not  to  the  dust 
Init  to  heaven,  and  am  comtorted  in  my  altliction. 

Your  dear  wife  belonged  to  those  positive  and  impressive 
characters  that  command  respect  so  conq^etely  at  the 
outset  that  one  never  stops  to  think  A\hat  are  the  ele- 
ments which  constitute  such  a  character.  They  are  like 
the  morning  light,  so  cheery  and  rcfresliing  in  its  inliu- 
ence,  so  completely  awakening  the  soul's  admiration,  that 
one  never  thinks  of  suljjecting  it  to  a  prismatic  analysis 
jn  order  to  discover  the  wonderful   colors  of  which  it  is 


119 

composed.  Outside  of  tliose  who  knew  and  ol^served 
her  in  her  every-day  life,  probably  few  can  name  the 
specilic  elements  of  her  character,  though  none  may  deny 
its  wonderful  influence  upon  himself.  I  recall  the  quiet, 
dignified  enthusiasm  she  manifested  for  the  beautiful  in 
art  when  I  tirst  met  wdth  her  among  the  ruins  of  ancient 
Athens,  the  suppressed  delight  indicative  of  a  cultivated 
intellect  controlled  by  a  modest  soul. 

The  freslmess  with  which  she  s[»oke  of  special  objects 
she  had  seen  in  Athens  when  I  met  her  again  at  your 
own  residence  in  Manchester,  was  almost  a  surprise. 
She  has  impressed  me  as  a  wc^man  of  much  thought,  and 
•yet  as  one  whose  thoughts  were  expressed  more  in  acts 
than  in  words,  and  I  carry  in  my  mind  impressions  rather 
than  expressions,  though  her  cordial  hospitality  to  me 
and  mine,  and  her  generous  sympathy  for  the  work  in 
which  we  are  engaged,  are  among  the  expressioTis  that 
shall  never  be  forgotten. 

May  the  dear  Lord  comfort  you,  and  bless  and  sanctity 
this  severe  afiiietion  to  you,  is  the  }irayer  of  myself  and 
wife. 

Sincerely  yours  in  deep  sym})athy, 

GEOKGE  COXSTAXTIXE. 

(Missionary  ol  the  Ainericiin  Boiircl.) 

Deii.r  FriiiHl :  — 

We  received  copies  of  your  daily  i)apers,  and  I  have 
sent  one  to  my  daughters  in    Charlestown,  and  am   sure 


120 

they  will  remember  the  sainted  one  as  they  saw  her  in 
Athens.  Then  I  wish  them  to  have  her  beautiful  char- 
acter as  a  model  before  them.  I  recall  with  pleasure 
the  tirst  time  I  met  your  dear  wife,  a  warm  morning  in 
1878,  at  the  hotel  in  Athens.  As  we  conversed  about 
matters  of  interest  to  both  of  us,  I  was  impressed  by  her 
good  sense,  her  simplicity,  her  kindliness,  and  a  certain 
majesty  of  i)resence  which  clothed  all,  making  her  seem 
the  real  woman,  whom  one  could  wish  for  a  friend. 
Your  short  stay  was  soon  over,  and  the  next  time  we 
met  Avas  at  her  own  beautiful  home,  when  we  responded 
to  your  own  very  cordial  invitation  that  we  should  visit 
you  in  the  autumn  of  1880.  Her  Avarm  welcome  and 
thoughtful  attention  during  those  few  lovely  days  will 
long  linger  in  my  memory,  for  they  were  especially  help- 
ful at  that  time.  As  we  walked  back  and  forth  on  the 
bridge,  with  what  interest,  yea,  with  what  pride,  did  she 
point  out  the  inn)rovements  in  the  town,  and  tell  me  of 
the  success  of  certain  individuals.  Then  as  we  drove 
around  the  town,  I  remember  she  showed  me  this  and 
that  object,  as  if  each  were  a  i)art  of  herself,  even  to  the 
trees  along  the  streets.  During  those  days  we  had  many 
a  quiet  talk  of  her  earl}-  life,  of  the  responsibilities  of 
later  years,  when  she  sometimes  found  herself  suddenly 
brought  face  to  face  with  a  trying  emergency,  of  her 
social  relations  witli  eminent  persons  as  well  as  of  the 
huml)ler  but  dearer  ones. 

You   may  remember  that   charming  drive  across  the 


121 

Merrimack  and  up  the  heights  (I  do  not  recall  the  name 
of  the  localities),  how  we  hunted  for  chestnuts  to  send 
to  our  two  little  girls  whom  we  had  left  in  Charlestown  ; 
and  I  was  so  happy  as  she  said,  when  we  passed  a  sum- 
mer boarding-house,  beautifully  8ituate<l  on  the  top  of  a 
hill,  "  That  will  be  just  the  i)lace  for  your  mother  and 
your  Ilattie  to  pass  the  vacation.  If  they  will  come,  I 
will  do  all  I  can  for  their  comfort," — a  promise  of  thought 
for  our  daughter  when  we  should  be  thousands  of  miles 
away  at  our  mission  field. 

Again,  when  you  passed  by  Smyrna  in  1883,  I  had  a 
glance  at  her  pleasant  face,  and  a  few  words  of  greeting 
and  parting.  We  thought  to  see  each  other  again  in  the 
dear  home-land.  Now  she  has  only  stepped  across  the 
border,  beyond  your  vision,  it  is  true,  but  you  know  our 
sight  is  very,  very  short,  and  there  you  will  join  her  in 
a  little  while.  Then  not  a  shadow  will  ever  mar  the 
happiness  of  either. 

All  this  blessed  hope  of  a  glorious  immortality  we 
obtain  by  an  atonement  of  our  Lord.  Are  we  not  im- 
mense debtors  to  him  ? 

Yours  in  truest  sympathy, 
(Mrs.)  AMANDA  F.  COXSTANTINE. 


Englewood,  N.  J.,  March  19,  1885. 
Dear  Gorcriwr  S/i)i/th  :  — 

You  have  been  much  in   my  thoughts  since  your  be- 
reavement, and  often  have  I  and  my  good  wife  conversed 


122 

about  you  and  dwelt  upon  your  situation.  If  there  were 
anything  in  our  power  to  do  to  alle\'iate  the  great  sorrow 
that  the  good  Lord  in  His  own  ^nse  purpose  has  laid 
upon  you,  gladly  would  we  put  ourselves  at  your  com- 
mand. 

But  is  it  not  a  fact  that  as  time  wears  on  }'ou  iind  your- 
self more  reconciled  to  the  situation,  and  stronger  to  take 
up  and  carry  forward  the  duties  that  daily  press  upon 
you  ?  Do  not,  dear  friend,  lose  heart ;  do  not  give  your- 
self to  too  intense  contemplation  of  the  great  loss  that 
30U  have  sustained.  Rather  rejoice  that  it  was  your  good 
fortune  to  he  blessed  so  many  years  with  the  companion- 
shi[>  of  such  a  noble  woman  as  your  wife.  Treasure  up 
the  memories  of  the  past,  and  find  comfort  in  the  thought 
that  ere  long,  when  you  shall  have  reached  your  allotted 
term  of  life,  you  are  sure  of  a  blessed  and  unending 
reunion  with  the  woman  you  loved  so  well  here  on  earth. 
For  one,  I  cannot  doubt  that  in  the  higher  world  friends 
will  recognize  each  other;  and  while  there  may  not  be 
marriao:es  and  giving  in  marriage  there,  I  am  sure  that 
the  friendships  sanctified  on  earth  by  holy  love  will  be 
reestalilished  in  heaven  with  an  intimacy  and  exaltation 
far  above  and  l>eyond  what  existed  here  below.  I  well 
remember  bow  my  mother's  death  (the  closest  relative 
I  ever  lost)  affected  me.  My  grief  ^\■as  great,  but  after  a 
little  I  came  to  rejoice  that  the  dear  woman  was  safe 
in  heaven,  beyond  all  the  trials  and  cares  of  this  world; 
and  the    verv  fact  that  I  had  such   a  saintlv   iruardian 


123 

Avatching  over  me  became  a  constant  incentive  to  hiii-her 
aspiration  and  nobler  effort.  I  believe  that  you  will  soon 
see  the  time  when  the  presence  on  the  shining  shore  of 
your  own  Enmui  will  be  to  you  a  constant  inspiration  to 
the  zealous  and  manly  performance  of  the  daily  duties 
that  lie  in  your  path. 

Most  cordially,  your  friend, 

SAMUEL  A.  DUN^CAN. 


Xew  Yokk,  March  25,  1885. 
Dear  Gorcrtior  Smj/ih:  — 

We  little  thought  when  we  bade  you  and  your  dear 
wife  good-bye  in  Paris  that  we  should  never  see  her 
again,  but  are  indeed  thaidcful  that  we  had  those  pleas- 
ant \isits  tt)gcther.  They  are  among  our  })leasantest 
memories,  and  now  our  hearts  are  aching  for  you  in  your 
sad  bereavement.  Pray  acce}»t  from  3'our  friends  what 
little  comfort  it  is  in  their  power  to  offer  you  in  your 
terrible  affliction,  and  allow  it  a  little  to  assuage  your 
grief  tiiat  all  must  say  of  your  dear  wife, — 

"  None  knew  her  but  to  love  her, 
None  named  her  but  to  praise." 

My  daughters  join  me  in  adding  their  tribute  of  admi- 
ration for  your  wife,  and  wish  me  to   convey   their   deep- 
e'st  sympathy  to  you  in  your  great  trouble. 
Always   sincerely  yours, 

FANXTK  E.  HUXTIXGTOX. 


124 

Syrian  Protestant  College,  Beyroot, 

March  25,  1885. 
Mij  D&ir  Gov.  Smyth :  — 

We  Iieurd  by  the  last  mail  of  your  great  loss  and  of 
your  dear  wife's  intinite  gain.  Earthly  joys  faded  from 
your  life,  eternal  joys  beamed  ui)on  her  life.  Your  sor- 
row must  be  great,  greater  than  I  can  tell,  for  no  one 
can  measure  such  bereavement  unless  he  has  experienced 
the  same.  I  have  often  thought  that  one  could  lose 
father,  mother,  brother,  sister,  or  child,  with  less  pain 
than  he  could  lose  his  wife.  It  must  be  so  in  all  true 
marriages,  for  "they  twain  shall  be  one  liesh."  May 
God  bless  and  comfort  you.  Your  dear  wife  is  gone  — 
into  the  other  room.  It  is  better  furnished  and  has  tiner 
views  than  the  one  she  lett.  The  door  is  o})en,  and  she  is 
waiting  for  you. 

AVe  remember  your  two  visits  to  Syria,  in  the  years 
1878  and  1883,  and  with  what  interest  Mrs.  Smyth  looked 
upon  all  of  our  missionary  and  educational  work.  We 
saw  her  for  a  short  time  only,  but  her  sweet,  beaming  face, 
her  cordial,  winning  grace  of  manner,  made  us  feel  that 
we  had  known  her  for  years.  Wlien  you  came  the  sec- 
ond time,  we  welcomed  her  as  an  old  friend,  and  well 
remember  how  we  wondered  at  and  admired  your  bravery 
in  going  to  visit  the  ruins  of  Damascus  and  Baalbec  at  a 
time  when  you,  in  consequence  of  some  injury,  could 
not  put  your  foot  to  tlie  ground,  and  how  she  playfully 
said,   "  O,  yes ;   he  can  go   anywhere  with   me  to  take 


125 

care  of  him."     She  was  a  true,  iiol)le,  Christian  woman. 
Mrs.  Bliss  joins  me  in  warmest  sympathy  and  love. 
Yours  very  truly, 

DANIEL  BLISS. 

(President  Syrian  Protestant  College,  Beyroot.) 


The  Manse  Cougeshall,  Essex,  Enu., 
March  25,  1885. 
My  Dear  Sir:  — 

We  received  some  little  time  ago  the  newspapers  con- 
veying the  very  sorrowful  intelligence  of  your  great  and 
heavy  loss.  You  have  every  consolation  in  retiecting 
on  the  [>ast  life  of  your  distinguished  and  noble  wife,  and 
also  the  great  comfort  of  knowing  that  she  is  with  Christ 
and  is  there  aAvaiting  a  blessed  reunion  with  those  who 
were  dearest  to  her  on  earth. 

It  seems  hardly  possible  to  realize  that  she  lias  been 
called  away,  she  seemed  so  liealthy  and  full  ot  vigor, 
both  mental  and  bodily,  wlien  we  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  lier  on  the  Nile.  On  bidding  us  farewell,  she  said 
with  great  earnestfiess,  "  Well,  if  we  never  meet  again 
on  earth,  we  shall  meet  in  heaven."  It  is  not  a  little 
singular  that  we  were  unconsciously  very  near  to  meet- 
ing her  again  on  earth ;  for  we,  Mr.  Philps  and  I,  were 
staying  at  the  Prospect  House  this  last  autumn,  within 
a  week  of  the  time,  as  I  saw  from  the  papers,  you  were 
at  the   White  Mountains  with    your  beloved  wife.      It 


126 

would  indeed  have  been  a  great  pleasure  to  have  seen 
her  once  more,  but  that  is  never  to  be  now.  Had  we 
known  your  address,  or  thought  it  possible  we  might 
have  seen  you,  we  should  have  written.  Our  stay  in  the 
States  and  Canada  was  very  brief,  but  we  came  home 
profoundly  impressed  with  some  of  the  scenery,  and 
especially  charmed  with  the  autumnal  tints,  which  were, 
I  understand,  unusually  line  this  autumn.  "We  were  in 
the  last  steamer  on  Lake  George,  and  nearly  the  last 
train  up  Mount  Washington,  and  the  hotels  were  all 
closing  as  we  left. 

You  were,  I  am  sure,  much  gratified  by  the  marks  of 
respect  shown  by  all  classes  to  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Smyth, 
and  she  will  long  live  in  the  affectionate  remembrance 
of  those  to  whom  her  influence  and  work  have  l)een  such 
a  blessing. 

That  you  may  l^e  supported  and  comforted  in  your 
very  heavy  and  painful  bereavement  is  our  earnest  hope. 

I  cannot  close  without  thanking  you  for  this  mark  of 
kind  remembrance  in  sending  us  the  papers.  Tlie  friend- 
ships arising  from  our  travels  have  formed  a  very  val- 
uable link  with  the  New  "World,  as  well  as  with  more 
distant  parts  of  our  own  country. 

Mr.  Philps  joins  me  in  kindest  exjiressions  of  sym- 
pathy, and  I  remain, 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

ANNIE  rillLPS. 

'Wife  of  Kev.  Mr.  Pliilps.) 


127 

Manchester,  N.  H. 
My  Dear  Friend :  — 

A  feeling  of  personal  bereavement  conies  over  me  as 
I  attempt  to  bring  words  of  sympathy  and  consolation 
to  your  sad  heart.  I  have  compassion  for  you  because  I 
mourn  with  you,  and  while  the  hunger  of  the  heart  can- 
not be  satisfied  but  ever  yearns  for  the  touch  of  the 
familiar  hand  and  sound  of  loving  voice,  yet  we  cannot 
but  feel  that  "  it  is  better  to  have  loved  and  lost "  than 
never  to  have  known  such  a  woman  as  she.  Her  mem- 
ory can  never  die ;  her  rare,  beautiful  character  is  still 
ours  to   cherish.     Yes,  it  is  only  for  ourselves  we  mourn. 

"  For  her  there  is  no  longer  any  future  ; 
Her  life  is  bright ;  bright  without  spot  it  was 
And  cannot  cease  to  be ;  no  ominous  hour 
Knocks  at  her  door  with  tidings  of  mishap. 
Far  off  she  is  above  desire  and  fear. 
Oh  it  is  well  with  her !  " 

The  thought  comes  to  me,  that  if  we,  her  friends,  feel 
her  loss  so  dee})l y,  what  must  it  be  to  her  husband  and 
companion,  he  who  has  been  nearer  to  her  than  any 
friend,  and  who  must  miss  more  than  all  others  her 
sweet  presence  and  ever  ready  sympathy. 

!My  family  join  me  in  this  message  of  condolence ;  and 
that  God  may  help  you  to  bear  this,  the  heaviest  trial  ot 
your  life,  is  the  wish  of 

Your  sincere  friend, 

IREXE  S.  PORTER. 


128 

Manchester,  February,  1885. 
Governor  SxMYTh,  — 

My  Dear  F^rietid :  —  In  your  great  trouble  you  have  my 
lieart-felt  sympathy.  To  me  Mrs.  Sm^-th  was  the  most 
lovely  woman  I  ever  knew,  and  all  that  a  true  friend 
could  be.  Far  back  in  my  childhood  I  remember  her 
sweet  face  and  cheerful  words,  and  I  think  my  life  has 
been  better  and  happier  from  having  known  her.  None 
could  go  from  her  dear  presence  feeling  sad  or  lonely. 
For  all,  l>oth  high  and  low,  she  had  a  kindly  greeting. 
Her  life  was  beautiful,  and  we,  her  neighbors,  all  loved 
her.  You  will  see  her  ere  long,  my  dear  friend,  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  and  be  no  more  parted  from  her. 
God  help  you  to  l)ear  your  sorrow  and  to  wait  His  time. 

Mrs.  EMMA  S.  KIDDER. 


Dorchester,  Mass.,  April  26,  1885. 
Thanks,  my  dear  friend,  for  your  call.  What  a  pity 
that  we  did  not  meet  I  I  know  how  to  sympathize  with 
you  in  your  great  bereavement.  It  seems  hard,  but  God 
knows  what  is  })est  for  us.  He  cannot  err,  and  ere  long 
we  shall  join  our  departed  friends  in  that  better  land, 
where  disease  and  death  can  never  come. 

As  ever,  yours, 
MAliSIIALL  P,  WILDER, 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth. 


129 

Goveimor  Smyth.  :  — 

Permit  us,  dear  Governor,  to  express  our  deep  sym- 
pathy with  you  in  your  great  trial,  and  to    hope  that 
the  grace  of  God  will  sustain  and  cheer  you  in  the  dark 
hours  which  come  to  all  hearts  so  hereft. 
Most  sincerely, 
Your  friends  and  obedient  servants, 

A.  P.  TASKER,  Pres.  Y.  M.   C.  A. 
W.  T.  PERKIXS,  General  Secretary. 


Melrose,  Mass.,  April  28,  1885. 
31>j  Dear  Fiimd :  — 

The  sad  tidings  of  Mrs.  Smyth's  death  have  reached 
me  at  a  late  day.  I  have  passed  the  winter  in  the  West, 
and  the  newspaper  accounts  of  her  decease  and  ol)sequies, 
which  were  forwarded  me,  failed  to  reach  me.  Only 
since  my  return  have  I  learned  how  heavy  a  bereavement 
you  have  suffered  in  the  loss  of  the  rare  woman  whose 
companionship  blest  your  life. 

I  have  been  reading  the  sad  details  of  her  illness  and 
burial  with  a  heavy  heart,  for  she  had  become  very  dear 
to  me.  Ever  since  my  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Smyth, 
anticipation  of  a  visit  to  Manchester,  on  any  errand,  was 
coupled  and  brightened  with  the  expectation  of  meeting 
her.  She  was  like  a  friend  of  early  years  in  the  l)eati- 
tudes  of  her  welcome  and  the  larLreness  of  her  generous 


130 

hospitality.  My  very  last  visit  with  her  was  the  most 
interesting,  and  was  one  which  I  shall  always  remember. 
It  was  less  than  six  months  prior  to  her  departure.  You 
were  absent  from  home,  and  we  talked  late  into  the 
night.  I  do  not  know  that  she  had  any  premonition  of 
her  approaching  illness  and  death,  for  she  said  nothing 
that  indicated  it.  But  if  she  had  foreseen  it,  if  she  had 
known  that  at  that  very  moment  she  was  standing  within 
the  shadow  of  the  dark  valley,  our  conversation  could  not 
have  been  very  different ;  for  our  theme  of  discourse  was 
that  always  thrilling  and  interesting  topic,  "  The  immor- 
tal life." 

She  told  me  something  of  her  early  life,  of  her  strug- 
gles in  the  past,  and  then  of  the  friendless  and  the  help- 
less and  dependent  people  to  whom  she  gave  nmch 
thought  and  help. 

"  But  what  I  do  is  as  nothing,  there  is  so  much  to  be 
done,"  was  her  concluding  remark,  "  and  I  sometimes 
grow  discouraged  in  my  efforts  to  help  people."  This 
led  me  to  remark  that  we  could  never  know  the  mighty 
help  we  rendered  each  other  until  we  stood  revealed  to 
one  another  in  the  clear  light  of  the  great  hereafter ;  and 
then  we  wandered  off  into  a  wondrously  interesting  talk, 
in  which  we  theorized  and  speculated  concerning  the 
future,  our  theories  taking  color  and  direction  from  that 
prose  poem  of  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps,  "  Beyond  the 
Gates." 

I  remember  how  cliarmed  she  was  with  a  little  poem 
of  Chadwick's   which  I  quoted  to  her,  and  which   she 


131 

made  me  repeat  a  second  time.  Let  me  quote  it  here, 
my  dear  friend,  for  there  is  a  world  of  comforting  sugges- 
tion in  it. 

"  As  when  the  friends  we  dearly  love 

Have  gone  beyond  the  sea, 
The  far  off  lands  in  which  they  bide 
More  real  yet  to  be; 

So  when  our  loved  ones  once  have  crossed 

Death's  lone  and  silent  sea, 
And  in  a  country  new  and  strange 

Found  immortality, 

The  heavenly  land  in  which  they  dwell. 

Which  erst  did  ever  seem 
An  unsubstantial  pageant  vast, 

A  dreamer's  idle  dream, 

Becomes  as  solid  to  my  soul 

As  is  the  earth  I  tread, 
"What  time  I  walk  with  reverent  tieet 

The  city  of  the  dead. 

Not  Europe  seems  so  real  to  me, 

The  Alps  not  so  eterne, 
As  that  dear  land  for  which  at  times 

My  heart  dotii  inly  burn. 

And  not  more  sure  am  I  that  they 

"Whom  ocean's  waves  divide, 
Will  meet  again  some  happy  day 

And  linger  side  by  side, 

Than  that  the  day  shall  surely  come 

When  we,  and  all  we  love, 
Shall  meet  again,  and  clasp,  and  kiss,. 

In  that  dear  land  above." 


132 

Death  is  but  a  circumstance  in  a  life  that  is  unbroken. 
And,  my  friend,  your  beloved  wife  has  only  learned  the 
lessons  and  mastered  the  tasks  of  the  first  school  of  the 
soul  in  advance  of  us,  and  so  has  received  an  earlier  pro- 
motion to  that  higher  school  where  the  lessons  are  nobler, 
the  tasks  grander,  and  where  the  great  Master  himself 
])ecomestlie  heavenly  instructor.  There  her  loving  heart 
may  indulge  to  the  full  its  kindliness ;  there  joy  will  be 
duty  and  love  will  be  law.  There  her  love  of  the  beau- 
tiful shall  have  perfect  development ;  her  spirit  of  help- 
fulness shall  find  scope  as  she  becomes  a  ministering 
auigel  to  those  whom  she  has  preceded  to  heaven. 

lieasoning  u})ward  as  we  may  from  the  supremest  de- 
lights that  crowned  her  life,  we  can  but  faintly  conceive 
•of  her  l)liss  in  that  higher  life.  All  we  can  know  or 
conjecture  concerning  it  is  as  but  the  fringe  on  the  bor- 
ders of  a  robe.  Neither  thought  nor  sense  avails  us  in 
trying  to  pierce  the  impenetrable  veil  that  has  dropped 
between  her  and  us.  But  if  we  had  no  higher  assurance, 
we  could  trust  the  instincts  of  our  hearts  that  all  is  well 
with  her  forever.  For  her,  so  unselfish  and  large-hearted, 
so  loving  and  tolerant,  so  devout  and  reverent,  so  upright 
iind  helpful,  the  future  holds  naught  that  is  harmful,  for 
those  are  godlike  (pialities,  that  have  in  themselves  y)eati- 
tude  and  immortality. 

So,  my  dear  friend,  do  not  mourn  too  deeply.  You 
must  miss  lier  and  cannot  be  otherwise  than  lonely,  but 
remember  only  a  hand-breadth  of  life  and  time  separates 


133 

you  from  her.  A  year  ago  she  and  I  rode  together  from 
Manchester  to  Rutland,  Vt.  IJer  errand  to  that  city 
was  a  mission  of  mercy  to  a  former  employe,  and  that 
evening  she  put  aside  a  great  pleasure  that  enticed  her 
that  she  might  aid  a  poor  woman.  How  her  little  army 
of  dependents  must  mourn  her !  What  will  God  give 
them  in  her  stead ! 

"  God  keeps  a  niche  in  heaven  to  hold  our  idols,  and 
there  we  shall  tind  them  as  we  pass  into  that  other 
chamber  of  the  king,  larger  than  this  we  leave,  and 
lovelier." 

Yours  very  truly, 

MARY  A.  LIVERMORE. 


Hyde  Park,  Mass.,  May  6,  1885. 
My  Very  Kind  Friend :  — 

Your  coming  was  so  like  an  angel's  visit  to-day,  it 
completely  unmanned  and  unnerved  me.  Not  only  your 
considerate  and  thoughtful  kindness,  but  the  words  of 
honorable  remembrance  of  past  labors  and  battles  for 
the  right,  against  slavery,  intemperance,  and  other  sins 
we  fought  together,  moved  me  deeply.  And  then  your 
touching  allusion  to  the  departure  of  that  noble,  intelli- 
gent woman  !  God  gave  and  has  taken ;  yes,  she  was 
His  child.  A})ove  eulogy,  —  no  praise  can  elevate  her  in 
your  mind,  no  words  can  tell  your  loss  or  reveal  your 
sorrow.     Like  a  guardian  angel  she  watched  over  your 


134 

rising  prospects,  and  was  never  a  hindrance  but  ahvays 
the  strongest  aid  you  had.  Now  the  Father  has  called 
her  first,  and  left  you  to  ripen  so  that  you  may  be  as 
ready  to  go  as  she.  *  *  *  * 

You  will  please  accept  our  most  sincere  thanks  and 
gratitude  for  your  kind  and  short  visit.  Come  again,  and 
I  will  take  a  trip  up  to  our  blue  hills  and  around,  and 
we  will  talk  of  that  glorious  home  and  friends  that  never 
part,  where  all  real  worth  is  appreciated  and  rewarded. 
There  shall  you  receive  for  your  short  afflictions,  "  which 
are  but  for  a  moment,  an  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  glory  "  for  all  you  do  suffer  and  grieve  here  in  this 
world  of  sorrow. 

I  remain  in  prayer  for  your  comfort  and  peace  in  the 
great  Comforter  forever. 

Your  brother, 

J.  B.  DAVIS. 

( Former  pastor  Freewill  Baptist  Church,  Manchester.) 


BosioN,  May  29,  1885. 
Hun.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

iJtar  Sir :  —  I  have  thought  I  would  write  you  ever 
.since  I  heard  of  the  terrible  sorrow  which  has  fallen  to 
your  lot,  ])Ut  knowing  that  you  would  have  so  many 
friends  to  otter  sympathy  I  have  refrained.  I  have 
remembered  always  the  sympathy  whicli  you  extended  to 
me  upon  a  like  occasion;   and  wlien  I  have  looked  l)ack 


135 

upon  the  saddest  day  of  my  whole  life,  —  the  day  of 
Major  Farr's  funeral,  —  I  have  seen  you  standing  promi- 
nent in  my  little  home,  ready  to  otter  me  your  heart-felt 
sympathy.  When  I  read  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Smyth,  it 
did  not  seem  possible  that  she  was  gone.  I  had  not 
heard  of  her  illness,  and  she  always  looked  so  well.  She 
was  a  lovely  person  in  every  respect,  and  you  seemed  to 
be  so  happy  together.  *  *  *  *  You 

have  my  sincere  sympathy  in  your  lonely  life,  and  if  any 
one  can  know  how  to  sympathize  with  you,  it  is  myself, 
for  the  loss  of  Major  Farr  was  u  terrible  one  for  his 
tamily. 

Very  respectfully  yours, 

ELLEX  B.  FAlill. 


OcALA,  Fla.,  April  27,  1885. 
J/y  Dear  Friettd :  — 

It  all  comes  to  me  at  once,  —  your  letter  and  my  own 
sense  of  loss  in  the  dispensation  that  has  taken  from  our 
sight  so  rare  a  spirit.  I  can,  tliis  morning,  write  you  only 
this  word,  as  this  mail  closes  in  a  few  minutes. 

May  God  comfort  you.  But  be  sure  your  grief  draws 
me  nearer  to  you  than  ever  before. 

Yours  in  memory  and  hope, 

JOSHUA  L."  CHAMBEKLAEN". 

(Ex-Gov.  of  Maine.) 


136 

Newton,  Mass,  May  12,  1885. 
Ex-Gov.  Smyth, — 

Dear  Sir  :  —  I  watched  the.  papers  with  deep  anxiety 
when  dear  Mrs.  Smyth  was  sick,  hoping  each  day  that 
the  reports  might  be  more  favorable.  But  she  could  not 
be  spared  to  us  longer.  She  was  fitted  for  higher,  holier 
service,  and  the  loving  Father  called  her  to  the  greater 
joy  of  that  service. 

I  was  greatly  pained  when  I  learned  that  she  was  no 
more,  —  dear  Mrs.  Smyth  !  Was  she  not  for  some  time 
being  made  ready  to  go  ?  The  last  time  I  met  her  was 
last  spring  at  the  Woman's  Mission  Board  in  Boston,  I 
did  not  recognize  her  till  she  had  kissed  me  and  said, 
"  Don't  you  know  Mrs.  Smyth  ?  "  I  always  thought  her 
beautiful,  but  there  was  a  softness  and  sweetness  and  beauty 
of  presence  about  her  that  I  had  never  seen  in  her  before. 
It  seemed  like  a  ripening  for  heaven.  I  thought  of  it 
much  after  I  had  parted  from  her,  and  when  I  heard  that 
she  had  passed  on  to  the  better  land,  it  came  back  to  me 
so  freshly ;  and  I  said,  "  Yes,  she  was  ripe  for  heaven  !  " 
How  much  I  should  have  liked  to  look  upon  the  dear 
face  again  !  but  that  could  not  l)e.  You  have,  I  am  sure, 
the  heart-felt  sympathy  of  all  who  knew  and  loved  her  so 
dearly,  for  we  can  understand  in  some  degree  the  great 
loss  you  have  sustained.     I  am, 

Very  truly  yours, 

Mrs.  K  E.  JOKES. 


137 

Franklin,  N.  H.,  June  13,  1885. 
Friend  Smyth :  — 

"We  thank  you  kindly  for  your  letter  just  received. 
Since  I  saw  you  I  have  committed  the  mortal  part  of  my 
good  wife  to  the  silent  grave.  The  immortal  soul,  "the 
vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame,"  is  gone  above,  as  we 
believe.  Her  sickness  was  long,  and  borne  with  much 
patience.  Her  death  was  finally  calm  and  tranquil.  Her 
faith  and  hopes  were  strong  that  she  was  about  to 
exchange  her  home  here  for  a  "  house  not  made  with 
hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens;"  therefore  we  believe 
our  loss  is  her  gain.         *         *         *         * 

Truly  your  friend, 

G.  w.  :n'esmith. 

Bristol,  N.  H.,  June  11,  1885. 
Hon.  F.  Smyth, — 

My  Dear  Sir :  —  The  very  i)leasant  and  agreeable 
acquaintance  that  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  enjoying 
with  you  and  your  estimable  wife  for  many  years  past, 
the  very  cordial  greetings  I  have  received  from  you  both, 
whether  at  your  home  or  abroad,  had  led  me  to  feel  that 
Mrs.  Smyth  and  yourself  held  a  very  high  place  in  my 
esteem,  as  among  my  most  valued  friends. 

I  have  often  thought  of  you  with  your  loved  and  loving 
companion,  so  hajipily  united,  with  the  prospect  of  many 
years  of  pleasant  and  agreeable  life  in  your  beautiful  resi- 


138 

deuce.  You  had  the  association  of  nunierous  friends, 
the  respect  and  confidence  of  the  community,  and  not  an 
enemy  to  mar  the  peace  or  happiness  of  you  or  yours. 

I  assure  you,  my  dear  sir,  tliat  tlie  sad  and  startUng 
news  of  the  death  of  your  very  dear  wife  gave  me  a  shock 
of  mournful  sadness,  and  was  only  consoled  with  the 
thouirht  that  while  the  body  lay  cold  in  the  embrace  of 
death,  the  spirit  that  had  borne  the  image  of  the  loving 
Saviour,  with  His  lineaments  divine,  was  enjoying  that 
rest  tliat  remains  for  the  people  of  God. 

"  O  let  the  soul  her  slumbers  break  ! 
Let  tlioughts  be  quickened  and  awake, 

Awake  to  see 
How  soon  this  life  is  past  and  gone, 
And  death  conies  softly  creeping  on, 

How  softly ! 

This  world  is  but  a  rugged  road, 
Which  leads  us  to  the  bright  abode 

Of  praise  above. 
So  let  us  choose  tliat  narrow  way, 
That  leads  no  traveler's  foot  astray 

From  realms  of  love." 


T  tl'cl  tliat  I  am  near  tlie  sunset  of  life,*  soon  to  bid 
adieu  to  earth,  but  with  bright  ])rospects  of  a  glorious 
immortality.     ^lay  God  l)less  and   direct  you  for  many 

K  S.  r>ERKY. 

(*  The  venerable  ex-Governor  is  ii\  his  89tli  year.) 


139 

Concord,  N.  H. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

Mji  Dear  Sir :  —  When  the  hand  was  laid  heavily  upon 
you,  I  had  a  strong  desire  to  write  you,  but  I  thought 
others  nearer  to  you  would  give  you  all  the  sympathy 
that  mortals  could  render ;  but  I  esteemed  the  treasure 
which  you  held  as  highly  as  any  one,  and  I  know  that  no 
greater  grfef  can  fall  upon  man  than  lias  fallen  upon  you. 
I  hope  that  strength  will  be  given  you  to  bear  the  sepa- 
ration, and  that  you  will  look  forward  to  the  happy 
reunion  that  awaits  you  and  your  blessed  wife  in  a  "  land 
that  is  fairer  than  this." 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

HENRY  P.  KOLFE. 


Concord,  February  5, 1885. 
Hux.  Frederick  SxMytii, — 

De<(r  Sir :  —  A  sincere  friendship  ot  many  years  presses 
me  to  a  word  of  sympathy  and  condolence  in  view  of  the 
great  bereavement  that  has  fallen  u})on  you.  So  many 
in  all  the  highest  walks  of  life  so  well  knew  and  appre- 
ciated the  rare  womanly  (qualities  of  the  now  sainted 
eom}»auion,  that  you  cannot  need  words  from  me  to 
remind  you  of  the  breadth  of  her  influence,  and  the  gen- 
eral sense  of  loss  in  her  de])arture  to  the  scenes  of  the 
new  and  better  life.  Yet  my  recollections  of  the  departed 
are  peculiar.     More  tlian  forty  years  ago,  when  she  was 


140 

about  twenty  and  you  some  twenty-two  years  old,  I  was 
first  privileged  with  her  acquaintance,  and  with  sittings 
from  both  for  miniature  portraits  on  ivory  in  water  col- 
ors. In  trying  then  to  delineate  features  aglow  with 
youthful  bloom,  I  found  there  was  personality  in  "  living 
soul "  challenging  artistic  skill,  as  well  as  blooming 
physique.  You  now  have  the  picture,  and  deem  it 
precious.  I  hope  it  is  a  consoling  souvenir.  Of  late 
years  I  have  known  her  more  intimately,  and  seen  her 
ripen  into  the  noble  womanhood  that  commanded  the 
admiration  of  her  numerous  friends. 

The  cloud  that  comes  over  you  is  indeed  dense  and 
appalling;  but  I  pray  God  that  it  may  yet  open  to  new 
light.  He  only  can  give  true  comfort  and  support,  and 
our  feeble  human  words  can  only  commend  His  mercies 
at  last. 

With  most  cordial  regards, 

Your  friend, 
Wn^LIAM  H.  KIMBALL. 


IN   MEMORIAM. 


Needless  the  task  to  ''  gild  tine  gold," 
Or  paint  a  face  whose  features  hold 
Beauty  beyond  our  art,  seeming  to  bear 
The  wordless  purity  of  prayer. 

Perfect  she  stood 
In  every  grace  of  noble  womanhood, 
Peerless,  alone  !  And  all  the  rarity 
Of  faith  she  knew  ;  and  Christian  charity 

Dwelt  within  her  breast. 
This  was  hei  life,  —  her  earthly  reign,  — 
That  could  no  more  of  beauty  gain 

Than  can  the  golden  west. 

ARTHUR   WHITNEY  SMITH. 


143 


The  Slid,  kind  words  written  hy  so  many  friends  in  this 
little  memorial  volume  may  be  fitly  ended  by  quoting  the 
appreciative  and  sympathetic  notice  from  the  pen  of  Col. 
John  B.  Clarke,  in  the  Manchester  "  Mirror  and  Ameri- 
can "  of  January  14. 

In  the  death  of  Mrs.  Smith  the  world  loses  one  of  its 
best  types  of  womanhood,  and  Manchester  one  of  its  best- 
loved  and  most  respected  women  ;  a  woman  of  whom  it 
can  be  said  without  exau^geration, — 

"  None  knew  her  but  to  love  her, 
None  named  her  but  to  praise." 

She  came  here  in  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  her  girl- 
hood, and  from  that  time  until  now  she  has  gone  in  and 
out  among  our  i>eople,  winning  from  all  classes  golden 
opinions,  and  carrying  away  ca}»tive  the  warm  admiration 
and  lasting  affection  of  all  who  were  fortunate  enough  to 
know  her  intinuitely. 

She  was  one  of  the  best  of  wives.  For  years  she  was 
the  constant  companion,  counselor,  and  support  of  her 
illustrious  husband,  and  at  all  times  and  in  all  places, — 
in  his  early  struggles,  in  his  later  triumphs,  at  his  home, 
at  the  capitals  of  the  state  and  nation,  in  this  country  and 
in  foreign  lands,  —  her  devotion  and  unerring  Judgment 
and  unfailing  tact  were  his  stay  and  sup})ort,  as  his  suc- 
cess and  happiness  were  her  reward.     She  was  good  and 


144 

noble  in  every  relation  of  life.  Her  lovely  face,  which 
seemed  fashioned  to  wear  a  smile,  rich  in  inspiration  and 
encouragement,  but  reflected  the  excellences  of  a  heart 
that  was  always  tender  and  true.  She  had  rare  good 
sense,  and  the  indescribable  and  irresistible  tact  which 
carries  the  weakness  of  woman  to  success  where  the 
strength  of  man  fails.  She  was  always  unassuming,  self- 
possessed,  and  charming.  She  could  adapt  herself  to  any 
circumstances,  and  was  equally  at  home  in  the  hovel, 
ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  humble  poor,  and  in  the 
palaces  of  nobles,  reflecting  and  brightening  the  honors 
of  her  husband.  She  was  a  helpful  woman  in  the  com- 
nmnity;  her  charity  was  watchful,  untiring,  and  modest. 
In  all  good  undertakings  she  was  earnest,  patient,  indus- 
trious, and  generous.  She  was  a  devoted  Christian,  and 
her  faith  shone  in  her  works,  —  on  the  street  as  in  the 
church,  in  her  daily  work  as  in  her  Sunday  devotions. 
She  was  a  peacemaker;  she  provoked  no  jealousies;  she 
stirred  up  no  strifes.  She  was  a  w^oman  of  the  people : 
she  despised  none  l)ecause  they  were  poor;  she  held  her- 
self above  none  because  they  were  not  richly  housed  and 
clad.  She  had  pity  instead  of  contempt  for  the  erring, 
and  for  the  unfortunate  of  every  class  encouragement  and 
help.  In  society  she  was  a  queen.  She  was  a  good  sis- 
ter, a  kind  neighbor,  and  a  faithful  friend.  She  had  no 
enemies.  Her  instincts  were  always  pure,  her  words 
wise,  and  her  acts  discreet.  Her  influence  was  powerful 
and  far-reacliing,   and   it  all    went  to    make   the   world 


145 

brigliter  and  better.  It  is  siicli  women  that  show  us 
what  eartli  might  be  and  what  heaven  may  be ;  and  when 
one  is  called  hence,  even  though  her  mission  has  been 
grandly  t'uliilled,  those  who  know  how  good  slie  was  may 
well  mourn  dee[>ly  and  long.  To  lier  stricken  husband 
and  sorrowing  relatives,  the  citizens  of  Manchester,  sad- 
dened by  a  sense  of  personal  bereavement,  extend  their 
heart-felt  sympathy. 


Denver,  Col.,  Jan.  28,  1885. 
Hon.  Frederick  Smyth, — 

Dear  Sir :  —  I  have  just  learned  of  your  afHiction,  and 
wish  to  express  to  you  my  heart-felt  symi)athy.  Mrs. 
Smyth  was  one  of  father's  greatest  friends,  and  has  been 
very  kind  to  me.  I  only  regret  that  \  was  never  so  situ- 
ated as  to  become  well  acquainte<l  with  her.  I  have 
always  known  her  as  a  friend,  and  feel  deej)ly  grateful 
for  her  frecjuent  kind  attentions. 

Sincerely  yours, 

FRANK  S.  WOODBURY. 


Exeter,  X.  H.,  .Ian.  20,  1885. 
Dorr  Goc.  S)iii/(h  :  — 

Again  I  write  to  acknowledge  a  kindness  on  your  part. 
On   Saturday  noon,  a  gentleman,  whose  name  I  do   not 


146 

know,  called  at  my  boarding-place  and  asked  to  see  me. 
He  presented  me  with  a  pass  from  you,  over  the  Concord 
&  Portsmouth  road,  and  told  me  that  it  was  your  desire 
that  I  should  be  present  at  your  wife's  funeral.  I  had 
heard  of  Mrs.  Smyth's  sad  death,  and  I  had  almost  de- 
cided to  go  up  to  Manchester  to  attend  her  funeral ;  but 
your  kind  message  (piite  decided  me,  and  so  I  packed 
my  valise  and  started,  arriving  at  MancheBter  all  safe 
and  sound. 

As  I  knew  that  your  mind  was  full  of  sorrow,  I 
thought  it  best  not  to  appear  at  your  house,  and  so  I 
spent  the  night  down  town.  On  Sunday  noon  I  went 
around  to  the  Franklin-street  church,  and  after  listening 
to  the  service  I  took  ni}'  last  look  at  dear  Mrs.  Smyth. 
At  the  grave,  after  the  impressive  service  was  finished, 
with  a  heart  full  of  sorrow  and  sympathy,  I  took  my  last 
leave  of  my  friend,  —  for  Mrs,  Smyth  was  my  friend;  she 
was  always  kind  and  pleasant  to  me,  and  I  loved  her  as 
thouijh  she  were  a  near  relative.  Knowins;  what  sorrow 
you  must  feel,  who  have  lost  not  only  a  friend  but  a  com- 
panion and  wife,  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  heart-felt  sym- 
pathy. I  am  only  a  boy,  but  a  boy's  heart  is  as  big  as 
other  folks',  and  I  assure  you  that  the  sympathy  I  ofter 
comes  straight  from  the  heart. 

Your  true  friend, 

FREDERICK  S.  DUXCAN. 


LEAD,  KINDLY  LI(;HT. 


Lead,  kindly  Light !  amid  the  encircling  gloom 

Lead  thou  me  on  ; 
The  night  is  dark  and  I  am  far  from  home, 

Lead  thou  me  on . 
Keep  thou  ray  feet ;  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene  ;  one  step's  enough  for  me. 


So  long  thy  power  has  blest  me,  sure  it  still 

Will  lead  me  on. 
O'er  moor  and  fen,  o'er  crag  and  torrent,  till 

The  night  is  gone; 
And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile 
Which  I  have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  awhile.' 


"  Her  name  forever  dear, 
Still  breathed  in  sighs, 
Still  uttered  with  a  tear." 


Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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